


I see you hidden in the night I found you

by garbagecat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe, Anxiety Attacks, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Friends, First time sexual stuff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Not A Happy Ending, POV Stiles Stilinski, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Stiles learns magic, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, deaton and stiles are friends, people die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 89,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3127079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagecat/pseuds/garbagecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The wolves will guide you home, my darling<br/>The wolves will keep you near<br/>The wolves will protect you from the woods<br/>There's nothing for you to fear."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles woke with his mind cloudy and fogged. His dream still replaying on a loop in his mind. He could still feel his mother’s warm embrace around his middle as she cuddled him close, her nose by his neck and her breath falling down his back, tickling him and making him squirm. They were by the stream that she would always take him to. Her words ringing softly in the back of his mind, “the wolves will protect you, my darling. The wolves will guide you home.” She pulled him off her lap and plopped him in the water. He looked at her reflection off of the cool water he sat in. Her face reflecting off of the icy water with unnaturally red eyes staring back at him, her face contorting into a snarl, as a scream began to form in the back of his throat.

And then Stiles was awake and couldn't shake the sick feeling that had settled in the pit of his belly.

He heard his father shuffle in the room over, “Stiles?” he asked with a question and a hint of fear in his voice.

He had to quickly reassure his father that he didn't have a night terror, but his ability to lie was lacking recently since Scott was no longer around to assist in most of the lies he told, “It’s okay father, I-I- Thought I felt critter crawl up my arm.”

Jumping from his bed, he quickly pulled on his breeches and a tunic and ran towards the kitchen, where his father would be waiting.

“Son,” his father announced as a greeting after swallowing a heaping pile of porridge, “Scott will be back next season, are you excited?”

His father gave him a hopeful expression,Stiles was trying his hardest to quell the ache inside his heart as he smiled back at his father. “Of course, Father. But I’m willing to gamble that Melissa is trying not to jump out of her skin at the thought of seeing her only son come back.”

His father gave a smile at Melissa’s name, “Oh, she is vibrating with anticipation.”

The the subject was dropped, “So, are you patrolling the perimeter today?”

His father nodded.

Stiles felt the sickness in his stomach growing. Terror welling up at the base of his body. He let out a rush of air and quickly asked, “Is it safe, father? I’ve heard numerous rumors, they say bears are out there right now, getting ready for their big sleep. Plus, it’s snowing pretty steadily now, what if you caught a chill? There are also hunters out there, don’t try to deny it, I saw the arrows in the trees outside of town hall and I-"

“Son, you need to calm your nerves.”

“What happened to the wolves all those years ago, they use to patrol the perimeters and keep us safe, why did the hunters have to come and make you do double duty as a sheriff and as a patrolman.” Stiles was unconsciously twisting his hands in the front of his shirt trying to calm down the nerves coursing through his body.

His father stood up and rested his hand on his shoulder, “Please, son. Please, do not mention the wolves, you know that your relationship with the wolves is different than the idea that everyone else had of them. Plus, they haven’t been in our region of the Hills in 10 years.” Then he let out a shaky breath and put his hand on his cheek, Stiles unconsciously looked at his shoes and a thread on the tunic he was twisting between his fingers. “I will be on horseback so if there’s trouble I will be out as fast as I can." And the let the silence fall for a second before saying, "Son, I don’t know why I have to say this but,” and drew Stiles’ face up to his so he could look directly into his eyes, “I will never leave you here alone.” He paused, giving himself a moment, “You know what I mean.”

Stiles let out a breath that he had no idea he had been holding. “Thank you, Father. I know I let the nerves go straight to my blood.”

His father slowly grabbed Stiles hands. Willing them to let go of the fabric of his tunic. “Melissa is coming by to bring you gloves, a winter cowl, and a new lining for your coat. Please be on your best behavior for her.”

His father released his hands and said, “Please don’t ruin your tunic,” and gave him a smile as he walked outside to the stable.

***************************

Stiles was in the stable feeding the horses when he heard Melissa call his name. Stiles yelled as loud as he could, “I’m in the stables, I’ll be right out!”

He quickly dunked his hands in a bucket of water and ran inside. His limbs making his way into the living quarters before his body.

“Boy! You need to slow down! Why are you always in a hurry? Do you miss me that much?”

Stiles smiled and hugged her, he did miss her that much, “How are you, ma’am?”

“Oh, don’t be formal with me, I know you too well,” and gave a sly smile.

Stiles smiled back, “Any word from Scott?”

Her smiled faded, “He won’t be back until next season, and his apothecary training is extremely rigorous…” he voice trailed off, “But I know this is what he wants.”

Stiles didn't know what to say to that, his sole companion had been gone for almost 3 seasons already and he was incredibly lonesome. Stiles stood there and tried to fight the urge to say something uncomfortable which was his go-to tactic whenever there was a lull in the conversation.

Melissa collected herself and pulled a bundle of stuff out of her satchel. “Here you go. I made 2 pairs of mittens for you since I know you’ll destroy the first pair before the first snow storm,” Then she searched in the pile, “Ahhh, here’s a cowl to wrap around your ears and head so your won’t catch a chill,” She went back to the pile, fingers separating every item, laying a few pieces aside for his father, “This is my favorite! It’s the lining for inside your coat, it is sheep’s wool so it will keep you almost unbearably warm.” Stiles let out a laugh, “And lastly, I made this special just for you,” and reached back inside her satchel, “Please don’t ruin it too quickly, I know how rough you are.” She handed him the softest sweater Stiles had ever felt, it was the color of the porridge he ate in the mornings with his father and felt softer than any fabric he had ever touched.

Stiles couldn’t help but pull Melissa into a hug. He held tight for a few seconds, “Can I try it on?”

She smiled, “Of course, you sheep-brain!” And Stiles hastily tugged it over his shoulders and looked down at where the sweater hung loosely at his waist but fit him perfectly.

“I figured that you and Scott were pretty identical in measurements.”

Stiles felt hollow but smiled anyway.

*************************

As soon as it got dark Stiles crawled into bed. His body ached from tending to the horses and working to prepare for the upcoming season. Stiles tried his hardest to keep his body busy during the day so it would keep him from thinking about Scott not being with him during his days of hard labor. Lately his mind had been drifting to memories of his mother. He hated thinking about his mother during the day, it always left his eyes swollen and puffy and in a foul mood. He reserved the thoughts of his mother for at night, before his father got home from patrolling so he could not hear the choked sobs that he made when his nerves really started to swell.

**************************

_“Mother?” Stiles asked as he splashed in the water._

_“Darling?” She was pulling different herbs out of her apothecary bag and laying them down on the ground._

_“How come the wolves don’t eat us like everyone says they do?” His mother stopped what she was doing and thought about it, her expressive eyebrows creasing in the middle of her forehead, “Well, many many seasons ago I found the momma wolf severely injured and I made sure she got better. She’s been my friend ever since.”_

_“And now I’m friends with her babies!”_

_“You are, my darling boy! They want to protect you, not hurt you like everyone says.” She came and sat by him in the water and gently pulled his face to her level so she could look him directly in the eye, “But you know you aren’t allowed to tell people that, right?” Her amber colored eyes bore into his, searching for the right answer._

_“I know, Mother.” Stiles heard a ruffle of leaves from across the stream and tried to focus on keeping his patience so he wouldn’t upset his mother or the momma wolf. His mother let go of his face so he could watch them come down to the stream._

_Stiles' mother had warned him multiple times that if he made too much noise or attracted too much attention to himself, the wolves wouldn’t come see him. So he remained still and patient, vibrating with nervous energy, then he saw the wolves move from the bushes and out towards the stream._

_Stiles mother looked up from the water, “Look, Darling. My friend is here.”_

_Stiles leaped up and ran through the stream to jump on the pups who he knew were waiting to play with him. As he ran toward them, the three pups bounced toward him in a playful manner, tongues falling from their mouths and grins plastered across their muzzles. Stiles ran through the stream as fast as he could but the rocks were more slippery than he thought, he lost his footing a fell, splaying across the water and rocks. His stomach felt bruised, and he knew his chin was bloody. He tried to contain his tears and tried his hardest not to cry, he was a big boy and wanted to impress his wolf friends and his mother. The three pups ran toward him and nudged him up and allowed him to pull himself up from the rocks by tugging at their fur so he could sit and catch his breath._

_The boy wolf licked his tears and licked the blood that dripped from his chin. He nuzzled close to his neck, licking the skin behind his ears. The others licked at his bloody legs, cleaning him. His tears forgotten as he pulled on the youngest girls’ fur. The mother wolf came over and bit the boy wolf on his haunches, making him yelp and stop licking his neck. She gave him a stern look and Stiles reached a tentative hand up to pet her muzzle. She leaned into his hand with an almost sigh._

_Stiles pushed up from the ground and started running again, blood still dripping from his chin and legs. The pups nipping at his heels as he screamed with glee. Stiles turned to watch the momma wolf walk towards his mother. Stiles' mother pulled her long hair back with a piece of leather, crouching to meet the momma wolfs eyes. She whispered out to the wolf, petting her fur._

_“Hey,” Stiles stopped in his tracks and called to the wolves, “Can you understand me when I speak to you?”_

_The wolves cocked their heads to the side in unison._

_Stiles smiled and his mind started racing, “You can, can’t you?”_

_The boy wolf looked directly into his eyes as Stiles spoke his next words, “You guys can be humans, too. Can’t you?”_

_The boy wolf actually looked worried and backed away from him._

_Stiles reached out his hand to pet him, “I don’t care. You know that. You guys are my best friends. I’ll protect you, just like you protect us.”_

_The boy wolf still backed away from him, Stiles desperately wanted them to know that he wouldn’t hurt them, “I’m like my Mother. I swear it.”_

_The oldest wolf stepped towards Stiles, confident and proud and bowed her head, allowing Stiles to pet her and nuzzle into her fur. Finally the boy stepped closer to Stiles and let him nuzzle into his fur. With the youngest wolf nudging at his arm to get his attention so he could nuzzle into her fur as well. Then the pups went back to nipping at the baby fat on his thighs and back, trying to get Stiles to run again so they could chase him_.

The door opened with a bang from the wind pulling it from his father’s hands. And Stiles was instantly snapped awake from his dream. His father muttered something to himself and closed the door quietly. Stiles tried to curl into himself more, trying to make the memory fade, feigning sleep so his father wouldn’t ask questions. He saw a shadow of his father’s figure in the doorway through his blankets. “Goodnight, son. I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Stiles fought the tears and pinched his arm to keep him from choking out a sob.

*********************************************

The next morning wasn’t too awful to wake up from, there was a dream but it faded from his memory before he could think back. Which was always considered a kindness. His father had left before he woke and left him with a little bit of porridge in the pot and some jerky off to the side. His father did the best he could and Stiles would always be grateful for that but his father could never come close to replacing his mother. He could think back to mornings filled with fried chicken eggs, pig meat cooking in a pan over the fire, and rosemary stinking up the house. His mother filled their house with warmth and joy and they would never get that back. No matter what. But this was his home, his father did the best he could, and Stiles would never get over how perfect his father was.

During the cold months, most of the townspeople were preparing for the onslaught of cold weather that would be heading in their direction. Many Alchemists and apothecaries were foraging antidotes and medicines in mass quantities so the townspeople could get sleep remedies and chest salve before the snow boarded them in their houses for months at a time. Stiles’ father was out patrolling the perimeter of their section of the Hills, called the Beacon, because it was on the highest part of the Hills. His father helped the local alchemist lay down the ash, and berries that would protect the perimeter, and make sure that nothing could come in and do any harm.

No one believed in any of the supernatural beliefs that the elders believed. Most of the people knew of the old myth that the wolves protected them from any harm, even if they would never admit it. Stiles knew they did but then the wolves disappeared and the elders had to come up with a way to protect us during the cold seasons and a way to keep the townspeople from panicking. The elders were extremely superstitious and worried about mass deaths that happened every so often, and bloody bodies that would line the town square, and in the end Stiles couldn’t really blame them for their superstitions. Stiles knew that some of their superstitions had a lot of truth to them.

Stiles put on his coat and prayed that it was still relatively warm enough that he wouldn’t need to put the liner in it. He had to go pick the plants that were ripe in the garden, can them, and make sure they had enough medicine and food for the season. His father preferred to do this but he was now forced to patrol the perimeter. He made a mental note to also check their wood supply because freezing to death would probably make his father angry.

This was how he spent his days and he loved it. The days were full of hard labor and solitude, which was intrinsically what he wanted. He didn’t need people to satiate and satisfy parts of his day and his life. He had Scott, Scott’s mother, and his own loving father which was all he really needed now.

When he was a boy he desired constant attention and was always talking to someone new about something weird. But watching his mother die, and then the wolves mysteriously left without warning and he felt like a crucial part of his personality vanished with the people he lost. Some of the men and women his age were learning different trades and moving away from the Beacon but Stiles never felt that urge to leave. He wanted to help his father as much as he could and he felt like he was honoring his mother every time he told his father to lay off the pig meat because that’s exactly what she would have done. It was an odd sense of duty he felt that he owed his father but at the same time he felt that this was exactly what he wanted.

He tried his hardest not to feel empty and hollow as he pulled carrots from the earth, harvested cabbage, plucked cucumbers from the vine, and collapsed into bed before his father came home.

*************************************************

The days were getting colder, shorter, and there was a sense of doom that hung over the Beacon. Many families lost children during the cold months and many families were now living with more mouths to feed. Stiles thanked the gods that he didn’t have any siblings. He was terribly upset about this as a little boy but soon realized that his parents did him a favor. Having more mouths to feed, more work to do to save his little siblings from nights of starvation didn’t seem like fun. Also after the age of 11 it was an impossibility because his mother had died.

The wind outside was howling, ice slapping against the windows, making it sound like rain. This was one of the first winter storms of the upcoming season and it always made everyone tense. Stiles tried to finish his porridge but couldn't and muttered that he better go check the horses.

He pushed himself up from the kitchen table leaving the little bit of porridge left in the bowl and felt the hair on his neck stand up. There was something outside, he could feel it, and he knew there was something stalking him through the windows. Stiles ran to the door and threw it open, the door banged against its hinges as the cold air snuck through slamming against his skinny body with a powerful push, icy sleet slamming into his face making him wince.

He looked towards the horizon and saw nothing but the fog. The barn was barely visible from where he stood so he ran to the horses to make sure they were okay, which they were. He muttered a sardonic 'thanks for protecting us you traitorous horses' and ran to the back of the house. He peered down to the property that was closest to his even though his vision could barely cut through the fog right in front of him, and tried to see if the Boyd’s were okay.

In his mind, everything checked out okay so he ran back to the door before he could catch a chill.

When he got to the door all motion in his body stopped. He felt all the air leave his body and the nerves coursed through his veins and to the pit of his stomach. Laying against his front door was a knapsack with a note stuck to it. He slowly walked to it and pulled it inside with him and set it next to the porridge he was eating minutes ago. Stiles pulled out the note, willing his hands to stop shaking,

_S._

_I haven’t seen your family in many moons. I just wanted you to know that you are always protected. Everywhere. Anytime. Please accept this gift as an apology for being absent for so long. Even though we aren’t here. You are always protected. Remember that._

He folded the note back into the tiny square it was originally in and opened the knapsack. Stiles gaped as he pulled out citrus fruits. They were a rare delicacy from the south that people only wished they could taste. He pulled out a whole giant bag of beans which was thoughtful and perfect for the upcoming winter, he pulled out a bag labeled: cane, and a bag labeled: cocoa powder which he’d never heard of. There were dried herbs tied together with twine and jars at the bottom of the bag with sweet fruits and vegetables.

A war was raging inside his mind. He knew who the note was from and he knew his father wouldn’t be happy about it when he returned home, but food was food. During the cold seasons you couldn’t afford to be prideful and throw it away. He put everything back into the knapsack and decided to wait until his father came home before he decided on what to do with it.

********************************************

Stiles tended to the horses, brushing their manes, giving them hay and making sure their water wasn’t frozen solid. He muttered to himself the entire time. How dare they show up after all this time? They haven’t been around since I was a little boy. A little boy who wasn’t allowed to grieve his mother out of fear of destroying his father’s sanity and ruining what little tenuous normalcy they had. The wolves were supposed to protect me. They were supposed to let me grieve to them. Tell me I was okay. Tell me that my father would be okay.

The horses were beginning to become upset at the scent of Stiles anger and sadness. Which only made him even madder.

“I’m okay!” he shouted to the horses.

A voice cut through the silence, “Well, son, I would hope so.”

Stiles dropped the brush and turned to see his father standing in the doorway to the barn. The crazy thoughts and feelings he was experiencing were now brought to light right in front of his father and he had no way to escape. No way to calm himself down without his father seeing him.

His father took in his frantic state and changed his demeanor instantly. He walked toward him slowly as if he were trying not to spook him, “Son, what’s wrong?”

Stiles stood by the horses panting, trying to catch his breath and looking at the ground not willing to make eye contact with his father. He would definitely cry if he didn’t escape, and he needed to do something or his father would panic. He couldn’t lose control. He hadn’t in a long time. He was stronger now and could quell the unpleasant thoughts.

“Son, please. You’re scaring me.”

His father slowly approached him and held onto his hand which was still slightly extended and still grasping at the brush he dropped a few seconds ago, “…. Stiles,” and then pulled him closer to his body in one swift movement so his father could wrap his arms around him tightly.

Stiles resisted, pushing back against his father, “No, please! Father!”

His father held him tighter as he thrashed around. He began sobbing and his father sunk to the ground, pulling Stiles with him. He cradled his head to his chest and kept an arm around his waist.

He cried harder and tried even harder to push against his father, to let him go, so he could run off and not have his father deal with his unpleasantness. His father shouldn't have to watch his son deteriorate right in front of him. But the tighter his father held him the more he could feel the fight leave his body.

He gave out some more muffled “Father…. Please… I’m not this weak. I’m better. You know I’m better!!”

His father brushed his hair off his forehead and spoke against his cheek, his breath soothing something primal inside of him, “No, no, no, you’re not weak. My boy, you are better, just because there’s a slight slip up every now and then doesn’t mean you aren’t better.” His father kept one arm solid around his middle out of fear that he would try to run. His father knew him too well.

His father kept trying to soothe him by stroking his cheek, carding his fingers through his hair, and kissing his temple, “Stiles, my son, you aren’t weak. Showing emotion is not a sign of weakness. Holding this pain inside of you because you thought you could handle it on your own,” and went silent for a beat, “or because you thought I couldn’t, is weakness.”

Stiles kept crying and his father kept wiping the tears away. They sat on the floor of the barn until after the sun went down, his father didn’t move. Holding him tightly was one of the tricks he learned after Stiles’ mom had died and it had been the only way to truly calm him if he became manic.

His father helped Stiles off of the ground and put his arm around his shoulder, taking a lot of Stiles weight. In the back of his mind he felt terrible because he knew his father was old and he shouldn’t be taking care of him like he was a baby. But at this point he couldn’t care. His body felt like it wasn’t his anymore. Like he was hovering outside of himself. Watching himself be carried inside.

Stiles was led into his father’s bed, where his dad took the shoes off of his feet, and pulled his coat off his back. Then his father did the same to himself and crawled into the bed next to Stiles where his father just kept pushing the hair off of his forehead.

“Son, I’m staying home tomorrow. I’ll stay with you, we’ll play games, make bread, just have a quiet day inside. I don’t want you to be alone.”

Stiles gave out a noise of protest, “Dad, you don’t-“, but the sobbing came back, "I'm better than this!" he sobbed.

His father couldn’t leave his son, who was a man now, alone out of fear that he would have an episode and run off to the woods and he’d find him purple and close to death like he had a few cold seasons ago.

His father just pulled him close, and made shushing noises over and over again, and Stiles tried to resist the urge to nose his face against his father’s chest, “It's just a day away from work," and then stopped running his hand through his hair,"Wait, are you trying to tell me that you don’t think I deserve a break?”

Stiles gave a small huff of laughter, and focused on his father’s breathing.

He fell asleep instantly.

***********************************************

Stiles woke up peacefully for the first time in a long time. His father’s warmth absent from the bed and he could tell that the sun hung high in the sky because of the many windows in his father’s room.

He padded to the kitchen where his father sat in his sleep clothes, reading a new decree that I’m sure some elder sent over to him. Stiles spoke up but kept his eyes on the floor the entire time, “Father, you should have gone to work.” He began twisting the fabric of his tunic up in his hands, his most notable nervous habit, and his father got up and pulled his hands away from his shirt and led him to their formal sitting area where he sat in a chair next to his father.

“Son, I wanted to take the day off, this isn’t because of you.” And gave him a wink. “So did you sleep well?”

Stiles huffed, “I guess,” then thought back to his actual sleep, “I don’t think I dreamt at all.” And gave a small genuine smile.

“You slept a long time. I honestly thought you were sick or something because you fell asleep at sundown yesterday and it’s already mid-day.” His father rubbed the back of his neck, but smiled at him, “You had completely exhausted yourself.” His father tried to keep his voice stern, “I don’t want you doing that anymore,” then coughed as if he were trying to keep the stern-ness in his voice, “you tell me when you need a break,” and pointed to him, “you got that?”

Stiles looked to the ground, “Yes, Sir.” His father stood up, “Let’s go make some bread, yeah?” Stiles followed, enthusiasm returning to his voice, “Yes, Sir!”

“Now, let's start baking! We need to use these citrus fruits before they go bad!”

So his father saw the knapsack and decided they weren’t too proud to eat the foods they were given.

They had the best dinner that evening.

*************************************************

His father kept a watchful eye on him and made sure he got his bearings back before returning to perimeter watch. Stiles’ normal personality slowly returned to him and once it had he watched his father relax a little. His father told him when he was taking on too much work and would make him stop it immediately. He got restless during the days his father was hovering over him but having someone talking to him all day was actually quite nice. After his father returned to his normal duties, Stiles could actually do all the work he had neglected.

The cold would be here soon and there was a firewood shortage that he had to address before the snow sunk into all the wood on the trees. Dry wood was the only wood you could use and there was almost none left ever since the last snow storm. He panicked but decided he would tell his father before he let the nerves go to his brain. Stiles couldn’t afford to have another bout of mania this close to the cold season.

His father came barging into his room late that day after work telling him excitedly that he spoke to the alchemist who lived in the Beacon and the alchemist had asked his father directly if Stiles would want an apprenticeship with him. Doctor Deaton had been the town alchemist since before he was born and his mother was one of his close friends.

He stopped seeing Doctor Deaton when his mother had died. There was no reason to see him anymore if his mother wasn’t alive and there were too many painful memories of him on the floor of Deaton’s shop with rocks and dolls that Deaton kept for Stiles to play with. It hurt to feel and relive all those moments of when he would look up from his play and at the adults laughing. His mother with her head thrown back in laughter and Deaton trying so hard not to laugh and to remain stoic that his teacup shook violently in his grip.

“Dad, I don’t think Doctor Deaton actually wants me. Maybe he feels sorry for me or something because I have never done alchemy in my life.”

“Stiles, I don’t want you thinking like that. Son, you were doing alchemy at a young age, your mother taught you with Doctor Deaton on a regular basis.”

“That was simple stuff…”

“Son, at least think about it.”

“Mom would have wanted this, wouldn't she?”

His father was weighing the answer in his head, as he squinted his eyes to look at him, “I don’t want to answer that. I don’t want your happiness to be defined by what your mother did and didn't want for you. It’s not right.”

Stiles sighed, resigned, “Okay, I’ll do it.”

His father flicked the side of his head, “You have to decide for yourself!”

“Ow-“, he rubbed his head, “hey! I thought this is what you wanted me to do!”

“I really just want you to be happy. If you don’t want to do this, then don’t. No pressure at all. If you do, don’t sell yourself short and do it. You could be a great alchemist if you wanted. Deaton doesn't just serve the Beacon, he serves all of the hills. It’s a great honor.”

Stiles kept rubbing his hand over his head, giving his father a sour look, “Can I just think about it first?”

His father flicked the other side of his head and sighed loudly, “Of course!”

His father then got up muttering to himself about his son being an ass. Stiles grinned.

***********************************

Deaton wasn't in his office when he stopped by so he left a mostly unintelligible note that said he would accept his position for an apprenticeship with him and was honored he was even considered for the position in the first place.

Stiles was able to make through the town and back to his house without running into anyone that he knew. Which was an amazing feat of divine influence. But Stiles knew that Doctor Deaton had given the town a warning of impending winter storms so most of the families in the Beacon were locked away in their houses.

Stiles walked back home and found his father waiting with one of the different scrolls that he always had out.

His father looked at him expectantly, "so?"

Stiles looked at him, confused, "so, what?"

"What did Deaton say!"

"Oh, right!" The Stiles stared at his father, rubbing his neck, "He wasn't there."

His father sighed loudly, "please, divine power, tell me that you at least left a note."

"Of course!" Stiles gave a wink to his father, "I'm not a sheep's- brain!"

His father let out a chuckle, "Oh, I beg to differ on that one, son," and went back to reading his scroll.

Stiles sat in comfortable silence with his father, it was something they could always count on. So Stiles leaned over his father to see what he was reading, he was nosy when it came to what went on in the Beacon and in the Hills. And his father always had a little bit of gossip and some information about what was going on.

His father snapped the scroll shut, “Not this time, Stiles. Go to bed.”

Stiles gave his a little pouty face as he turned around and stalked off to his bed.

******************************************

_Stiles felt himself wake up in this dream, he blearily took in his surroundings and looked at his hands, that were bloody, raw, and covered in dirt. He knew instinctively that he was down by the stream, where his mother would be waiting. But when he turned and got up to look for her she wasn't anywhere. Then he remembers that she was gone, she was dead and he couldn't help himself as he doubled over in pain. He curled on to himself and just continued to lay on the ground, sobbing and pounding his fists into the dirt beneath him._

_Stiles kept whispering the chant his mother made him promise to remember, even when she couldn't,_

_“The wolves will guide you home, my darling_

_The wolves will keep you near_

_The wolves will protect you from the forest_

_There’s nothing for you to fear.”_

_Stiles couldn't help as he sobbed harder._

_Stiles felt it in his soul that he had lost her way before her actual death and he thought that when she had finally died, he’d feel relief, because he wouldn't have to look at the woman who was his mother but could no longer remember him or remember his father, but he didn't feel anything close to relief, he felt empty and completely dead. Stiles can now admit to himself that he always had hope in the back of his mind that maybe, just maybe, his mom would get better. But she didn't and that was probably more devastating than her actual death. Stupid hope. I wish the idea of hope would drown in this stupid stream._

_His mother became forgetful and afraid of everything, even his father. She would run away from them, literally and emotionally, trying to escape her life. But she would have small moments where should would come back to him and be his Mother again and cuddle him close, whispering apologies and love. They finally went to Deaton who sat at Stiles eye level and said in his calm peaceful tone, that she was very sick, her brain was making her sick and that she wouldn’t get better. Then he stood up next to his father and said the technical term for what was happening with his mother, said there was nothing he could do, no remedy could alleviate her brain deterioration and leaned over closer to his father and whispered that she would die before the end of the summer season._

_“Why didn’t you take me with you!” He screamed to no one._

_Stiles heard movement from the other side of the stream and prayed to any divine power that it would be a monster that could deliver a swift death. Stiles shut his eyes tight, squeezing the tears out and kept whispering, “Just kill me. Just kill me. Just kill me.”_

_Instead he felt warmth press against his back and curl onto him. And when he opened his eyes to look, he saw that it was the big boy wolf he played with. The wolf whimpered with Stiles, licking his tears and behind his ears. The wolf couldn’t howl but kept making these almost mewling sounds. Stiles shook and sobbed and kept slamming his fist into the ground until the wolf shifted behind him and almost pinned his arms to his body, only making him sob harder, “My mom is gone! She left me here all by myself!”_

_With his arms pinned to his side, Stiles could only sob until he fell asleep again._

_When he woke up, he was being cradled by human hands. He slowly shifted underneath the hands that were holding him and saw a boy about his age right behind him. Instinctively he knew it was the boy wolf. Stiles felt something wash over him, it wasn’t relief but it was something pleasant._

_He looked at the sleeping boy, with his ear sticking out in a goofy way and his eyes a little far apart. He noted his bushy eyebrows and dark black hair sticking out in all directions. This is what his friend looked like when he was a human and Stiles couldn’t help as he extended his hand out to smooth down his hair._

_The boys eyes shot open, as he scrambled to back away from Stiles. Stiles must have crossed some kind of boundary with him. Tears sprang to his eyes, “I’m sorry, please don't leave me.”_

_The boy stood stock still and finally spoke, his voice beautiful and melodic, and had a weird sounding accent to it, “No-no, I’m just… - see-,” and pointed to his nakedness._

_Stiles opened his mouth and laughed a little, “I think you’ve seen me naked like a million times. This must be one of the first times you’ve ever seen me with clothes on!”_

_The tension visibly left the boy, and he smiled, “My name is Derek.”_

_Stiles laughed a little bit more, “My name is-”_

_The boy cut him off, expression resembling something like exasperation, “I know your name, Stiles! We’ve been friends since we were babies,” and smiled brightly at him, exposing his big front teeth._

_Stiles just sat criss-crossed facing Derek, he thought about how Derek had done something incredibly brave by showing him his human face._

_His mother had told him once that it was a huge sign of trust whenever a wolf showed their face to a human and it meant that they loved you a lot. “Thank you for letting me see your human face,” and willed himself to not cry again._

_Derek must have been able to sense the sadness building up in him and pulled him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry, Stiles,” he whispered into his ear, his head resting on his shoulder, “I loved your mom, too.” And kept speaking about her, it was nice to hear someone else talk about his mom, someone who really knew his mom, and knew her kindness. “Your mom allowed us to be ourselves and be able to be friends with you while in our wolf-form, which no other wolves get to ever experience. We learned so much about ourselves and our control because of your mom’s kindness.” Derek rubbed small, comforting circles on his back, “we loved your mom so much,” and then Derek pulled his head away from resting on his shoulder and looked into his eyes, Stiles finally saw Derek’s eyes, and would never be able to explain what color they were, he just knew that they were the closest to divinity he would ever see, “just like we love you. We’ll always be here for you.”_

_Stiles nodded, tears flowing freely from his eyes, “You’re my best friend.”._

_Derek just sat still and held him for a while longer. Derek finally spoke, worry creeping into his features, making his bushy eyebrows meet in the middle of his forehead, “I need to go back before night-fall and so do you, it’s not safe.”_

_Stiles nodded and wiped his eyes, “When will I see you again?”_

_Derek spoke quickly, “Come back here tomorrow, or whenever,” Then he hesitated. “But shouldn't  you be with your father, keeping him company?”_

_Stiles shook his head, he didn’t want to say it out loud but he owed it to Derek, “My father has been drinking a lot and he’s not himself anymore,” but then added, “he’ll get better though, he’ll be back to normal soon,” Stiles couldn’t really tell if he was reassuring himself, or Derek at that point._

_Derek took Stiles hands in his and looked into his eyes, “You’re right. He will be better, you don’t have to worry about him,” then released his hands, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”_

_“Okay,” and stood up on his wobbly legs as he turned to walk towards where he lived. Half way up the hill that led him to home he turned around and saw a wolf looking directly at him on the opposite side of the stream, Stiles gave him a small smile as he headed home._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This chapter has mentions of previous self-harm*  
> It is not my intention to make anyone uncomfortable with this fic but there are previous mentions of self harm throughout this chapter so please avoid it if this is a trigger for you. I definitely do not want anyone to feel bad while reading this.

Stiles did his normal everyday work like usual, except for the fact that the cold season was now  technically in full swing and this was becoming a huge detriment to his everyday tasks. He tried to ignore the cold as best he could but there was only so much he could do during the day without his toes and fingers turning purple and blue. He knew that when they turned black, they’d probably fall off.

He went out to the horses every morning to give them the fresh water that had been sitting by the fire stove because he knew the other trough of water would be frozen solid since it was out overnight.

After tending to the horses and making sure they were safe in this terrible weather he grabbed some kindling from the barn on his way out and ran inside before he could start losing appendages.

He stripped his off his coat and tunic placed them by the fire in their kitchen to dry then laid on the floor by the fire, watching the flames dance and curl around the wood, letting his body get so hot that he could feel the burning dig into his flesh. He felt the heat surge through his body, making him sweat and ache to be closer to it, just one little touch. He pulled himself away from the fire not wanting to give into the temptation of letting the fire actually touch his skin. If he let the fire actually burn him,  it might feel too good.

He looked at his bare forearms taking in all the dark and ugly patches of skin that covered his pale arms. _'_ _Don’t give into the temptation of pain. You're better now!'_ He always paid attention to the scars that looked like little waves cresting against his skin and he would lightly draw his fingers over these scars, trying to see if the sensation had returned to them but they never did. When he touched the scars he felt nothing.  

That’s what he loved about fire. He loved that this simple element could take away the feeling in his body when he burned himself. It’s also why he’s too embarrassed to ever take off his tunic in front of anyone, even his own father, who knows all about the scars but Stiles still feels shame when his father accidentally sees them.

He heard a knock on his door, thankfully breaking him from his thoughts. He quickly pulled on his tunic and went to the door.

Doctor Deaton was standing outside, wind tearing the scarf he was wearing away from his face.

“Doctor Deaton, please come in!” He stood aside and pulled open the door, “I would never expect someone to come out in this weather.”

Deaton pulled the scarf off and placed it by the fire to warm, “Oh this is my favorite type of weather, Mr. Stilinski!”

Stiles didn't know what to say, but he did  shoot a quizzical look to the back of his head, he wanted to say, sorry your brain doesn't work right, but that’d be mean.

Deaton dusted the snow off his jacket and loosened his shoulders before he sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Stiles to do the same. He looked directly as him, “I received your note Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles felt under a lot of pressure all of a sudden, this was like an interview for the position he just realized, “Uh, yes… sir. I didn't know when you’d be back so, I-”

“Stiles, calm down. I want you for the position, I just stopped by to ask when you’d like to start.”

"Oh, I'm honored. But don't you want to look for other options before you settle with me? Because I'm not really an alchemist and no ones ever given me any formal training."

Deaton stared at him, a confused look plastered across his face, "Well, first things first, Stiles, I know you have a background in alchemy. So you can quit trying to convince me otherwise." He rubbed his temples, "I remember you sitting on my floor and actually practicing alchemy when you were only a few summer-seasons of age."

Stiles looked down at the table, where his hands were clasped until his knuckles were white.

"Also, and this is crucial to the actual apprenticeship, I trust you. I trust your friends, I trust your character, and I trust your father."

Deaton put his hand over Stiles', "If you don't want to take it because you aren't ready then that's fine but if you're worried that you won't be a good alchemist then that's not an excuse."

Stiles swallowed what ever rationality he could come up with to get Deaton to find someone else and more qualified and instead said, "I can start tomorrow if you're ready."

Deaton smiled, " That's the spirit! I'll see you tomorrow at sunrise."

Deaton pushed out of his chair to stand and grab his scarf. Stiles followed him and pulled the door open for him to exit, "Thank you for stopping by, sir."

"My pleasure." And walked into the snowy weather.

************************************************

His father returned from work freezing and irritable, but he'd been irritable a lot recently so his sour mood wasn't a real shock to him. Stiles knew it was work related so he didn't take his bad attitude personally. But his mood picked right up when Stiles told him that Deaton had stopped by the house, inquiring as to when he can start work.

His father took off his coat to lay by the fire and sat down at the kitchen table. He looked expectantly at Stiles.

"What?"

His father looked pained, he rubbed at his temples, and asked through gritted teeth, "What did you talk about, Stiles?"

“Oh,” and sat down at the table across from his father, his hands itching to curl themselves into the fabric of his shirt, instead he rubbed his fingers through his hair, “He told me that he really wanted me for the position and that I’d been doing alchemy since I was a child, which I don’t really remember. But I start tomorrow at sunrise so there’s that.”

His fathers face opened up, “You’re actually going to do it?”

Stiles didn't register the question so he squinted his eyes trying to get his father to explain what he meant.

Instead his father stood up and pulled him into one of the tightest hugs he’d ever felt.

Stiles itched to tell his father that he also resisted hurting himself. That he actually felt himself leaning and giving in to his perverse desires but that when he saw himself slipping, pulled himself away instead. In his head he thought that was way better than taking the apprenticeship.

************************************************

Deaton was relentless when it came to all the alchemy he needed Stiles to learn. But in Deaton’s  defense, Stiles had a lot to learn. He practically threw him into his new studies and work. His days were long, and filled with a lot of information that didn't make sense to him but Stiles knew there was something about this that he really liked even though he'd never admit that out loud.

Deaton usually wanted Stiles in his shop by sunrise and then he was permitted to leave at sundown. It was an entire day filled with memorizing names he didn't know, words he couldn't believe were in his language, and enchantments he could not pronounce. Stiles had to thank  a divine power that during the cold season the daylight was considerably shortened.

It was rigorous memorization work and Deaton would test him on his knowledge whenever he saw Stiles. He couldn't do any real alchemy or any real work with his hands, which is what he was really itching to do, okay! He would hear Deaton's voice ringing through his head whenever he got frustrated with all the reading, _'You must first learn the basics, Stiles, or you’ll never be a good alchemist_ ', ugh, no I don't…. Okay, yes I do.

But Stiles was pretty sure that he'd never be a good alchemist regardless, _'so why not have a little enjoyment and do some actual alchemy...'_ No, he still needed to try his hardest, so he could make his parents and even Deaton proud. He recited this to himself whenever he got bored and tired from a day of learning. Whenever Deaton came in to ask him about what he learned he felt the need to recite everything almost verbatim. Deaton would always sigh and tell him that ' _alchemy isn't just about memorization, it was also about feeling in his soul'_. Stiles began to really learn that vagueness was Deaton's specialty. He still felt that he needed to prove to Deaton that he could do this and could be the apprentice that he expected.

He'll admit that he kind of likes his new morning routine of waking up before his father and making a lunch for himself and for his father. It eases his mind knowing that his father is eating something good for his heart instead of going to the local inn for wine and cheese. He always remembers to put the kindling on the fire and get it stoked before he leaves in the morning because his father appreciates that a lot, even if he won't ever admit it.

He never has the displeasure of running into anyone on his way to Deaton’s shop or on his way home either, which was such a strange blessing he didn't even know he wanted. On the flip side of this wonderful feeling he felt in the mornings was that he had to walk in the blistering cold every morning and evening. This cold bit at every area of exposed skin, and threatened to freeze the skin off his bones even through all the layers. The cold was piercing and brutal during the peak of the cold season but at least it kept most of the townspeople indoors and out of his business.

Deaton was so rarely in his shop during this time of year because he was always out foraging certain cold-berries that only grew during this season and he also did a lot of travelling to the lower parts of the hills whenever another alchemist needed his assistance with an illness or coordinating with the apothecary. Deaton was in high demand during the winter months so Stiles just tried to do the best he could to prove his worth even as just a household assistant without Deaton even being there to see him.

Stiles had created his own specific morning routine without Deaton even being involved in his actual studies. Denton had once mentioned to him that alchemy was not done with other people, this was a solitary job and loneliness was part of the job. There was always a note left for Stiles detailing all of the tasks that he expected him to have finished and a list of enhancements that he expected Stiles to know almost by heart.

By the peak of the cold season he could feel that Deaton was running out of enchantments and history for him to memorize and read about. The notes left to him in the morning were getting more vague and more domestic. Deaton had him wash the windows, dust the library, and wash his bed linens. Stiles felt that this was the end of the line for him, he thought that this was Deaton running out of things for him to do, and he was slowly letting Stiles know that he wasn't cut out for alchemy.

It was nice, even though he did have the fear of being released from his apprenticeship stewing in the back of his mind. He loved spending the day in solitude reading about various alchemists from earlier times and learning all this new information that he had no idea existed before Deaton had showed him. Deaton expected Stiles to come in knowing more about the history about Alchemy than he actually did, so almost every evening Stiles had a new scroll or book to read and he would sit right next to his father in their kitchen after dinner and they would read silently together and talk about how their day was.

Stiles started waking up excited for his day even if there was always a nagging feeling of inadequacy looming in his mind.

For the first time in a long time he felt content and happy with his life.

***********************************************************

Stiles stood in the shop and held Deaton’s note in his hand trying to comprehend what it meant. Because it did not make sense to him at all.

 

_Stiles,_

_You’re moving on to bigger and better things. Go to a body of water and find an arrowhead that calls out to you, go to the forest and find a smooth stone that calls out to you, and then go to the place that you’re most comfortable with and find a piece of quartz that calls out to you. This is a difficult task, yes, but this is the next step in order for your alchemy lessons to continue. Take the day to find these items and bring them to the shop with you the next day. If the items don’t have an energy with you, then the lesson won’t work and you’ll have wasted my time. If you can’t find one that calls out to you then that’s better than bringing one that won’t work._

_You’ll know what I mean when you go look for them. Good luck!_

_-Deaton_

 

He wondered if Deaton was being literal in his note. Find a stone that calls out to you?

Stiles sighed loudly, and tucked the paper into his coat. He pulled up his cowl and went to the first place he could think of and jogged to the stream.

******************************************************************

Stiles sat by the stream like he did when he was a little boy just picking up rocks and setting the prettiest ones aside. He forced down the memories that threatened to resurface; all the memories of his friends and his mother. He wouldn't think about all the pain they left inside of him. He knew that this stream was part of him just as his hands and eyes were part of him- it was just hard facing the good memories.

He only had a tiny area of not frozen water to work with and tried to use it to the best of his abilities. He skipped the smooth rocks he found on the shore across the water and tried to figure out what it meant to have a 'pull' towards an inanimate object. He couldn't even feel a connection with the temperamental horses that he used to spend most of his days with.

Stiles knew that he wasn't the kind of person that made ‘connections’. Sure, he and Scott were practically brothers but outside of Scott he had no one his age to connect with. When he was younger he would go to the city and spend a lot of time kissing his classmate, Malia. They would hide behind her father’s bakery while he was busy with work and kiss for hours. He would struggle to contain his wandering hands, but Malia would try to feel him through his breeches every time they touched and then get frustrated when he didn't do the same to her. She was wild, beautiful, and had hair like honey and it was so easy to get lost in each other, spending the whole afternoon after arithmetic kissing and touching. There was no spark for Stiles, no ‘I WANT TO DO THIS ALL THE TIME’ moment. He really liked kissing and touching her but it wouldn't have pained him to stop. He was afraid there was something wrong with his brain.  

Stiles pulled his cowl up around his head to protect his neck from the biting wind that blew harder in the valley that cradled the stream and muttered to himself, because he was always prone to talking to himself whenever he couldn't figure something out and this was one of those times. 'Well, let's look for arrowheads and figure out which one I feel connected to,' and then huffed in frustration, 'because this is a completely normal conversation to be having with myself!'

Stiles looked down into the water, the little break in the ice was his only hope for this endeavor of finding an arrowhead, and stuck his hand in, and grabbed a handful of gravel at the bottom as fast as he could. The cold was overwhelming and he had to keep himself from screaming out in pain.

When he opened his hand he saw an arrowhead right smack dab in the center of his palm. He picked it up and stared at it. It was a metallic blue that seemed to reflect all of the light that surrounded him. And he knew that he felt it. He felt the connected-ness that Deaton described. He felt it was part of him, like something he was missing for a long time was found.  

Stiles couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe what was happening and if he was being honest, he didn't really want to fathom what was happening either.

*******************************

Finding a smooth stone in the forest was more of a challenge to him since the ground was frozen solid everywhere he looked. He was forced to scour the woods bent over for hours trying to chip open the frozen ground so he could see any rocks at all. Stiles tried valiantly to keep his cowl on his face but of the sweeping winds were hell-bent on making him blind with the ice that kept getting thrown with the wind.

He let himself fall into a soft pillow of snow that sat beneath a tree, feeling defeated after searching all afternoon. He let the waves of discouragement wash over him, he spoke to himself while twisting his hands in his coat, trying to get a little bit of warmth to return to his hands, _‘Maybe alchemy isn't for me. This is my sign that I should just give up'._

He felt exhausted after spending all day outside in the snow he let his eye flutter shut, _‘maybe if I just froze to death right here I wouldn't have to face alchemy ever again’_.

Stiles heard the familiar sound of twigs breaking in the distance and he sat up, something was out in the distance coming closer to him. He knew to check his surroundings before standing up and trying to make a break for it. He stood up slowly, aware of every sound, and started running back towards his home as fast as he could.

He ran hard for as long as he could, the cold air making it almost impossible for him to get a full breath of air, until his body finally forced him to slow down but he still refused to look back, he didn't want to see whatever was coming after him. He finally saw the clearing that led him to the back of his property and pushed himself to run the last little bit. Just toward the edge of the clearing his foot got hung on a root sticking out of the ground. Luckily he had enough sense to put his hands out to catch the fall.

His body slammed against the ground, and he immediately tasted blood. He looked at his trembling hands and saw that something sharp had cut him deep on the palm of his hand. Then darted his tongue out to lick his lip and felt where he had bit his lip.

‘Fuck!’

He stood up trying to gather his senses, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand, and looked towards the ground to try and find whatever cut his palm. A turquoise rock stuck out of the ground next to a giant piece of glass, he plucked the rock from the earth and ran back to the house.

Finding the quartz could wait until tomorrow.

****************************************************

Deaton was surprised that he managed to find an arrowhead even if he didn't explicitly say that he was.

Stiles stood in his office waiting for Deaton to give him bad news and tell him that he would never be a good alchemist and he failed his first and only quest. Silence stretched between them while Deaton went through his office grabbing different ingredients he needed for whatever he was doing. Stiles tried to rationalize that the awkward silence was just Deaton trying to find a nice way of saying that even though he did find the arrowhead, he'd never be a good alchemist because his brain was flawed.

"So, you couldn't find the Quartz or the smooth stone from the forest?"

Stiles stammered for a second, debating on showing him the one that he bled all over, "Well, I sort of found a smooth stone from the forest," He  pulled the stone out of his pocket, still covered in his blood from the day before, so Deaton could see it.

Deaton reached out to hold it and Stiles let it drop into his hand. "You know that just because you bled all over it doesn't mean that you have a connection to it."

"I mean, I just," and stopped talking, "I felt something, that’s why I took it," and stared at the ground waiting for Deaton to tell him that he expected more from him.

"Well, we'll see what happens, okay?"

Stiles looked up at Deaton, trying to hold back his shocked expression, "You still want me to be an apprentice?"

Deaton let out a sigh and rolled his eyes, "Mr. Stilinski, your self-doubt is going to be your ultimate defeat." Then he handed the arrowhead and turquoise stone back. "Keep your eyes out for the Quartz but I think I might have that covered already."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll let you know when I find it."

Stiles watched as Deaton kept grabbing ingredients and his mortar and pestle. "Now sit down and tilt your head back so I can put a remedy on that lip of yours. It's so swollen and bloody that I can't stand to look at you."

****************************************************

Stiles was sitting on the floor in Deaton’s office drawing a triangle with a piece of chalk-rock. "Did it! Now what?"

Deaton stared at the triangle, Stiles tried his hardest to resist feeling self-conscious, "Now draw a circle, make sure all the points of the triangle are touching the circle."

He held the chalk and drew an almost perfect circle, willing his shaking hands to stop, he is trying to impress Deaton, alright?

Then he came behind Stiles to examine his work. "Now put the arrowhead at the top of the triangle and the salt at the bottom right of the triangle." Then looked at how Stiles poured the salt. It was becoming harder to resist the feeling of self- consciousness.

"No! You need to keep the salt in that area only. So you better sweep all the granules into that corner or else this won't work. It’s crucial that the ingredients stay in their specific area."

Stiles did as he was asked. Sweeping the granules to make it perfect. He wanted to impress Deaton, he wanted to assure him that he made the right choice for his apprentice.

"Now place the cup on the left end of the triangle."

Stiles did it and then turned around to look at Deaton expectantly.

"Okay, Stiles, this is it. You have to will the water to be there. Alchemy is mostly will and don't let any of the stupid scrolls you've read this week tell you otherwise. This is in your control." Then Deaton backed away from him, "recite the chant and you know what to do."

Stiles held his hands in front of him, he had to will himself to focus on the chant and not on his own self-doubts. _'You can do this you sheep-brain'._

The chant flowed out of his mouth with ease, and he couldn’t believe it, he almost stopped mid-chant to tell Deaton that this had never happened before. All those weeks of struggling and now he felt the chant come out of him like it was part of him. He snapped his eyes shut so he could bring his focus back to the chant. As soon as he finished the chant he clapped his hands in front of his chest like he was praying. He felt a tingling sensation pour from his chest and out towards his limbs.

"Divine power, Stiles. You did it."

Stiles opened his eyes and saw water sloshing around in the cup. He looked at his own hands, and felt that tingling sensation coursing through his blood. He couldn't help the smile that slowly spread across his face. "I did it."

***************************************************

There was this new sensation burning in Stiles’ chest. It took him a few days to realize that it was the simple bloom of confidence growing inside of him.

His father could not stop telling him how proud he was.

Dreams were no longer plaguing his sleep.

Stiles was feeling something he never thought he could actually feel.

He felt happy.

***************************************************

The smooth forest stone turned out to have some spiritual connection to him. Now, whether it was because he bled all over it or because it was an act of divinity that made him stumble upon it was still up for debate.

Deaton had told him from the beginning that blood was a powerful conductor of magic. It was also an important  part of a section of forbidden alchemy called runes.

So, when Deaton asked if he wanted to try exploring runes, Stiles agreed without hesitation.

Deaton had explained that runes were considered dark, but Stiles didn't care. He also said that they would be a part of Stiles forever, they would scar his body and linger within him until he died. Deaton had also said that the stones would become powerful by marking his body with them, putting your faith into something inanimate creates a special kind of power that would make Stiles powerful Since Stiles had been using the stones to do his alchemy they were already very powerful and if he made them into runes then he wouldn't need to carry them with him wherever he went.    

“Before we start, I wanted to give you this.” Deaton turned to reach into his drawer, “I knew I had it in here, I just didn't know where I had put it,”  he pulled out a rag. Carefully, he unclothed a piece of quartz, “This was you mothers’, Stiles.”

Stiles reached out a took it, memories surging through him. He felt a connection roar through his veins like no other stone had before, “I use to play with this when I was little, didn't I?” He swiped at his eyes before the tears could fall.

Deaton let out a laughed, “You would steal it from her every chance you got.” He stared at Stiles, then reached out and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “It’s normal to have this kind of reaction to something familiar.” He sat down at his chair next to the bookshelf, “when you’d play with it, your mother and I could tell that you had something inside that attracted you to alchemy. You were making books move, and the ground shake and it was becoming harder to hide that.”

Deaton must have been feeling sentimental, “When you were about 5 summers- yeah, about that age, and your mother was in another town helping a friend find something for her apothecary, and your father came in with you saying that you wouldn't stop freezing all the water in the house.”  

Stiles barked out a laugh, “I remember that! Why am I just now remembering that?”

“The quartz. This was a giant part of you that I was forced to take from you because- well- as I’m sure you remember, you were starting to hurt yourself with it after your mom died.”

“Oh.”

“Stiles, you’re probably going to start remembering a lot now. This little piece of quartz will help you remember certain events that you might have repressed, It will help you know how powerful you are.”

Stiles his hands trembled with the power it but he gripped it tight, then pressed it to his lips, “Thank you.”

“We aren't going to mess with the quartz today, we need to work with something you've been using frequently and I think the forest stone will work since you already have a blood-connection to it.”

Stiles pocketed the quartz and pulled out the smooth turquoise stone. He rubbed his forefinger and thumb on it, almost soothingly.

“Okay, where would you like this rune to be?”

Stiles squinted his eyes at Deaton, trying to understand what he meant, “What do you mean?”

Deaton shot him a weary look, “When I said that it was going to leave marks, I was being literal. A rune will leave a mark on your body, Stiles.”

“Are you going to have to cut me?”

“Yes.”

Stiles had to sit down, the thought of someone cutting his body was making him queasy. He let his head fall into his hands as he started breathing deeply.

“Okay Stiles, I’m going to outline everything that is going to happen while making a rune so there are no discrepancies." He crouched down so that he was at eye level with him, "I’m also going to forewarn you of the fact that you’ll never be allowed to take off your shirt in a public manner aside from family and lovers. A mark of a rune is a mark of the supernatural. But you knew that.”

Stiles lifted his head from his hands to stare at Deaton, “Didn't know that, but okay,” he couldn't help the sardonic tone from slipping into his words.

“Stiles, what do you think I meant when I said that this is a forbidden practice?”

“You are generally so vague that I just thought it was forbidden in the ways that drinking spirits is forbidden, you know, but everyone still does it anyway.”

Deaton pinched the bridge of his nose, “Stiles, we’re going to make an intricate mark on the stone, then create that mark on a specific part of your body. You will smear blood all over the stone and then recite a spell that will bind the power of the stone to your body, creating a rune.”

 _I’m not going to vomit. I’m not going to vomit._ “Am I allowed to be drunk for this?”

“Mr. Stilinski…”

*********************************************

Stiles leaned over the desk, his shirt pulled up around his neck but revealing nothing more than his back, with a rag shoved in his mouth.

Deaton halted behind Stiles, "Is the rag really necessary."

Stiles pulled the rag from his mouth, "there's a strong likelihood of me screaming but I can take it out if you want."

"Leave it in, I guess. But this is the only time I'm doing this for you, understand? I know I insisted on doing your first rune but after this you are on your own unless you explicitly ask for help."

Stiles nodded his head, "Understood." And then popped the rag back in his mouth while Deaton settled in behind him.

"Why can’t you just take off your shirt, this is more complicated than it needs to be,”

“No,- I- I need my shirt on,” he could not let Deaton see the scars on his arms, he couldn't let Deaton see how messed up he really is.

Deaton narrowed his eyes, “Fine. Center of your back, correct?"

Stiles nodded and bit the rag as hard as he could. Then Deaton started carving into his skin.

Stiles wished he didn't enjoy the pain as much as he did.

****************************************

Stiles felt the power course inside of him, it felt like static trying to bubble out through his fingertips. There was a rawness pulsing up and down his back, it could have been because of the fact that Deaton carved into his skin for the good part of an hour but it could have been because he now had a rune. This power was also a little bit on the terrifying side.

Deaton had said this would make him powerful but nothing could compare to what was  actually happening. Stiles was suddenly exhausted.

"Stiles, it's been a long day, okay? You should go home and rest. Maybe even take tomorrow off."

"It's okay, I'm tired but I don't want to alarm my father."

Deaton began to wipe up all the blood on his table. "You should tell tell your father about what we did today."

Stiles made his way to the door, _‘tell my father? Yeah, right’_.

"Thank you, doctor Deaton, I'll see you tomorrow."

He had his door on the handle, one step closer to home, "Stiles, just because the rune is part of you doesn't mean you don't need to be careful." Then he made unnerving eye contact, "you  need to promise me that you'll put the stone in a place where no one can ever find it."

"Okay, I'll make sure it's protected, I promise."

Deaton thankfully broke the eye contact, and gave him a smile "Good bye, Stiles. See you tomorrow."

Stiles was so exhausted by the time he got to his house that he fell asleep with his boots on.

*****************************************

_Stiles hung on to his mother as she carried him down to the stream, his head lolling to the side and his stomach cramping in pain. He didn't feel good at all, he couldn't move his limbs, but this dream seemed familiar. He was lucid of the fact that this was a memory but it was still an unchangeable dream. He felt trapped._

_"Mommy, don't wanna," he nuzzled into her neck, smelling her. Grounding him to something so that the urge to fade would be harder._

_"Shush, darling. You'll be okay."  She smoothed his hair down with one hand and kept him up on  her hip with with other. "You'll feel better, sweetie."_

_Stiles let the tears fall, he cried out, "Mommy, I don't wanna see dem."_

_His mother kept walking and Stiles closed his eyes tight. Everything hurt. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep would make it better._

_His mother walked out of the clearing and next to the stream, Stiles could hear the wolves play further away and when he opened his eyes he saw the boy wolf and the girl wolf playing on the opposite side of the stream, they jumped and chased each other’s tail and bit at each other's mouths while he tried his hardest not to smile._

_The momma wolf sat on the bank in the rocks and his mother pulled him off her hip as she sat down on the ground and tried to get him to settle into her lap._

_Stiles wanted to be held, so he tried to cuddle his way back into her arms again but she pulled him down and looked into his eyes, "Stiles, darling, stay in my lap."_

_Stiles fell to her lap and cried, “I hurt!”_

_Stiles could see that the boy wolf heard him and stopped playing immediately. He trotted over to his mother and sat by Stiles. The boy wolf licked his face and tried to get as close to him as he possibly could. It was annoying him, he wanted the wolf to stop and go away._

_The momma wolf gave him a warning growl and the boy wolf fell back, but not leaving his side._

_"Stop it. Go away!"_

_Stiles' mom clucked and wrapped her arm around his little bicep, "Stiles, be nice."_

_The boy wolf wiggled closer. He was trying to get Stiles to stop crying, he was trying to get him to play with him and he didn't want it. He couldn't play. He was hurting all over and wanted to sleep and didn't want the boy wolf to see him cry._

_"Stop it!" And smacked his nose to make him go away._

_Stiles could see the boy wolf was taken off-guard by the hit and before he could pull his hand away, the boy bit his hand._

_The momma wolf was on the boy wolf in an instant, pinning him to the ground, her teeth on his neck as he made a high pitched whining sound._

_Stiles cried at the sight of the blood coming from his hand, but cried harder at the thought of the momma wolf hurting him, "No hurt!" He shouted at the momma, "No hurt him!"_

_The momma wolf released him and the boy wolf looked at him with pitying eyes. And hung his head low._

_" 'm sorry," and allowed the boy wolf to lick the blood off his hand and nuzzle close to him. The boy wolf gave a low whine and Stiles could barely hold on to consciousness anymore. He just wanted the hurting to stop._

_His mother saw Stiles drifting and pulled him up, "he's not feeling well, could you help?"_

_The momma wolf laid down on her side and Stiles was placed next to her. Stiles fought to keep his eyes open but was losing that battle. The momma wolf nudged closer to him and he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore._

_Suddenly, everything stopped hurting._

_He felt better but still didn't have enough energy to keep his eyes open, so he let him sleep consume him._

_When he woke from his nap the boy wolf was curled protectively around Stiles, he started whining when he started to wake up. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the wolf continue to lick his hand. “Not nice.” he muttered lowly to the boy wolf._

_The boy wolf kept whining until his Mother came over to examine him, “Look at my darling boy, he looks so much better!” She pulled him up to hug him and patted his back soothingly._

_Stiles laid his head against his mother’s shoulder, her hair getting stuck in his mouth, “I not hurt anymore.”_

_“No, the momma wolf made you feel better. She’s special like that.”_

_He looked down at his hand, noticing the lack of a wound,  “No owie on my hand.”_

_His mother hugged him tightly to her, swaying back and forth a little bit, “No, your friend made sure you were healed. He’s very sorry for hurting you.”_

_Stiles turned behind him to look at the boy wolf who was right behind him, the wolf hung his head low. Stiles let go of his mother and went to wrap his arms around the wolfs neck._

_The wolf perked up and licked the side of Stiles head._

_“We just found out he’s like his momma, too.”_

****************************************************************

It was hard getting out of bed the next morning. He just wanted to go back to that dream-memory world. He wanted to cling to his mother again and spend all day running with the wolves. Stiles could feel the memories coming back to him, they weren't as painful as he thought it would be. It hurt, but it was a pleasant type of ache that settled into his heart and brought clarity to his brain.

He pulled himself out of bed, stretching loudly, and got ready for the day. He looked down at his bed and saw blood on his sheets and pillow.

"Oh, shit." Then he searched for where the blood came from. He removed his shirt and saw blood all over the back. His bandage must have shifted in the night.

 _'Well asking father to help me fix my bandage will be a good way of telling him that I now have a rune_.'

He walked into the kitchen and got the kindling in the fire going and started cooking the porridge. He tried to sit patiently at the table but that was unsuccessful. Since he couldn't seem to sit still he decided to pick up a little, organize the kitchen and wash a few bowls.

"What in hell happened to your back, son!"

His father took him so off-guard that he dropped one of the bowls he just washed, it landed to the floor with a clang and he waited for the noise to stop before he answered.

"I was waiting for you to wake up so you could help me bandage it again.It- It's a rune, father. A rune is when you take-"

"Shut it. I know what a rune is, I also know it's forbidden alchemy, Stiles!I know that if anyone sees this you'll be hung in the middle of the town in front of everyone!"

Stiles could tell that father was beyond angry getting close to furious. He was turning a nice tomato color by the time he said that what Stiles did was the stupidest thing he's ever done. He was so upset at him that he couldn't even look at him.

Stiles felt so sick, he felt like his father was disappointed in him, and regretted allowing him to take an apprenticeship with Deaton. After berating him for what seemed like eternity, his father went to the washroom and came out with a rag and a small bowl of water.

Stiles went and sat at a chair in the kitchen so his father could doctor his back. “Stiles, take off the bloody tunic please,” Stiles hesitated, he didn't want him to see the scars but reluctantly he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground.

His father wiped the wound gently, allowing the cool water to wash away all the dried blood. “Well, it is cool looking, I’ll give you that.”

Stiles gave a self-satisfied smile to himself. He wanted to tell his father about the power and tell him about how he feels. That waking up this morning wasn't something he had to endure but something that he didn't mind doing. Instead he shifted to pull the quartz out of his pocket. “Deaton gave it back to me.”

“I’m really proud of you, son.”

“Wha-,” Stiles sputtered. “You just said-”.

His father dropped the rag into the bowl and rubbed his shoulders, and touched his forearms, lightly brushing the scars. Stiles stiffened at the touch,  “I never once said I wasn't proud of you. I called you stupid, yes, because you are. But I will not let you think that I am not proud of you,” he kissed the back of his head and backed away so Stiles could stand up.

“Your mother and I knew you were powerful from the time you were an infant. We knew this was probably going to be your only option in life,” and gave Stiles a sly nod.

His father then pulled him into a hug and held him tight against him.

Stiles couldn't help but feel relief.

He kept holding on tightly to his father, “I will protect you, always. Even if it kills me,” and then hesitated, as if to consider his words, “but please don’t let anything get that far.”

******************************************************************

Deaton’s office was littered with papers and ingredients. The room was in chaos and Stiles couldn't comprehend what happened in the little time that he’d been away from the office and at  home.

“Doctor Deaton?”

A cloud of papers and books flurried from the corner, where he’d jumped at the sound of his voice, “Ah, Stiles!”

Stiles was apprehensive about approaching any closer out of fear of stepping on something important, “Sir, are you okay?”

“Yes, come in, Mr. Stilinski.” He pulled out notes from the books he had been holding, and extended his arm like he was gesturing to give the notes to Stiles, “I have an important errand for you.”

Stiles walked through the chaos and stepped close to him to take the notes out of his hands. “No problem.”

Deaton guided him to the back closet and pulled a knapsack out and gave it to him, “It’s in Liften, so we need to get you out the door as soon as possible.”

Stiles stopped in his tracks, he felt the blood pound through him, his eyes losing focus on his surroundings, “What? Liften is a whole day away from here!”

‘It is,” he said, handing Stiles a map to put in his knapsack. “Your rune will keep you warm in this weather, there’s also a hut of mine close to Liften, I marked it on the map. Keep your head down. Deliver the papers and do not ask questions.”

Stiles just stood there, his mouth agape.

Deaton kept fluttering around the room, “I have to stay. There’s been a spike in the new winter-sickness and everyone’s afraid this could be deadly. So I have to stop it before it has a chance to spread."

Deaton picked up a bundle of lavender, “Plus, this is a good way for you to meet your peers. Being an alchemist means that you’ll do quite a bit of travelling. This will be good for you.”

The door flew open and a young man stepped into the office, “Doctor, my mother is seizing! Please hurry!”

Deaton ran out the door, shouting as he got further away, “Go! Tell your father! Convince him to stay home today and then hurry to Liften!”

Stiles was left standing in the middle of the office holding a knapsack that he didn't really want to be holding.

**************************

Stiles almost broke down at the thought of being away from his father, even if it was only for a night. He couldn't exactly place why he was having such a hard time with leaving but he was.

Stiles knew his fear was irrational but being away from his father was making the nerves course through his body at a rapid speed.

His father made him look him in the eyes and promise him to be safe. "Son, you'll be fine." And held his shaking hands, "You'll only be away for a night. I will stay here all day. You have my word that I will be sitting in my seat reading my scroll when you walk through the door tomorrow."

Stiles couldn't stop his shaking and he was trying his hardest not to cry. "I know. I know nothing will happen, I can't stop the thoughts and the nerves."

His father pulled him into a hug and shushed him, "I want you to listen and remember these words, okay?" Then paused so Stiles could catch his breath, "Nothing will happen to me or you. It's only a night away from each other. Deaton is right, this will be good for you"

Stiles breathing slowed after a few minutes. "You're right."

His father pulled him away, "Now go be a hero for the town."

Stiles laughed, "hardly!"

***************************

The road to Liften was bright and smelled wonderfully of pine needles and winter-time.

There were different colored tassels that circled the trees and represented the different towns in the Beacon. The yellow represented Liften and that's all Stiles saw most of the time. Every now and then he'd see green but he that would take him down to Wren-Heights.

His walk to Liften was peaceful compared to the worry that seemed to permeate every thought he had. Stiles muttered different enchantments to keep his mind occupied with nicer subjects. He muttered enchantments to make a ball of light follow him, even though the sun shone bright overhead. He tried to remember the enchantments in different languages that were always the most difficult to pronounce but since he couldn't remember he just gave up trying. He played with the ball of light instead, making the light move at his will.

The sun started setting and Stiles nerves flared. The map told him that he was still pretty far away from Deaton's cottage.

His balled his fist, his fingernails digging into his palm, he hummed a the little tune his mother always hummed, she said it would always protect him so he hummed with as much urgency as he could muster. He didn't want to run but at the same time he wanted to run as fast as he could. He removed his gloves so he could really feel the pain of his nails digging into his palm, he needed to feel something that would ground him, he couldn't afford to let his nerves consume him now.

As he walked, he’d close his eyes, willing the sun to stay up with his mind. When he opened his eyes he saw that the sun was still hell-bent on setting. He closed his eyes and allowed the cold air to fill his lungs, the fresh scent of pine soothing something inside of him when he opened his eyes he saw a flash of brown fur run out from the bushes. He was so afraid that he couldn't process what was happening, so he just shut his eyes and prayed for a swift death.  After a few seconds of nothing happening he peeked open his eye and saw a giant wolf sitting next to him. Stiles instantly tried to quell his worries so he wouldn't alarm the wolf. If he could stay calm, the wolf would stay calm as well.

The wolf nudged against his thigh, like the wolf was urging him to keep walking and then once he walked the wolf kept nudging him until he picked up his pace.

The wolf's tongue fell out of its head as it tried to jump on him. He knew this wolf, this was a wolf who played with him when he was a little boy. They were the only wolfs who knew how to get him to run.

Stiles felt like he was punched in the gut and then beaten with a stick, he hurt. This wolf was his friend once, his best friend and now all he felt towards the wolf was anger. This wolf was a town away and never bothered to come back and see him, they never bothered to keep in touch with him even though they were suppose to be best friends. Stiles was so angry.

Stiles slowed down, almost stopping completely. He couldn't get over this, he wanted to call this betrayal but it wasn't, they moved on and left him behind. A quick glance while the wolf trotted forward allowed him to see that this was one of the girl wolfs. Stiles was thankful for that because if it was the boy he would have throttled him.

The wolf turned back to Stiles, then leapt up and bit him on the ass, "Hey!" He yelled at the wolf, and grabbed where the wolf just bit! "That's going to leave a mark, you know!"

The wolf gave him a grin and backed off a little but kept urging him to run. So he ran.

Stiles couldn't stay that mad, at least she was here helping him now, "Are you the oldest girl?" Stiles asked between gasps of air.

The girl let out a low growl.

"The youngest?"

She let out a whine.

Stiles admired her, soft auburn fur with giant gold eyes, she was as tall as his waist and  ran with purpose, "You're so huge now. I can't even imagine what the others look like." He remembered her at a young age, she was always so much more feisty than the older two ever were, she would bite Stiles, and make him play with her no matter what. Stiles would never say that he picked favorites with the wolves but the baby was always his favorite.

She stopped making noises at him, just trotting along beside him trying to make him keep pace with her. Somehow Stiles knew that things weren't the same for her. He knew without her making any sounds that something was off.

Deep down he wanted to yell at her and tell her to leave him like she had when he was younger but he couldn't. He knew it wasn't her fault that her family left, she was only a pup when they left.

Stiles looked down at her and smiled, she smiled back at him, her eyes illuminated by the purple streaking the sky behind them. Being with his friends, no matter how bad they hurt him was better than nothing.

Stiles was in front of the cottage before he knew it. And the girl watched him go up the steps and pause before going inside, "You can come in if you want."

Instead she looked at him directly in the eye and ran away into the night.

"Okay then."

*******************************************

Stiles didn't want to say that Liften was exactly the same as the Beacon but the similarities were astounding. He walked through the square that morning and walked into the alchemists office as if he were back in the Beacon. Stiles called out, “Hello”, just to see if anyone was in there.

A woman’s voice called out, “Back here!”

Stiles walked to the back of the office, passing the library that was in perfect shape, not a thing out of order. He walked until he saw the woman. She was a spry young woman who somehow seemed familiar to him. She was the same dark color as Deaton but many seasons younger. She had an aura of regality and could probably crush Stiles without even moving her hand.

She was perched at her desk when he walked up. She took sight of him and stood, "So you're the alchemist that will someday replace my uncle."

Ah, this is his niece. He didn't know what to say so he just stood, frightened by the young woman, "I- no- not ever,"

"Calm down, Stiles. I'm messing with you." She extended her hand out, he shook it enthusiastically, maybe a little too enthusiastically, "My name is Marin."  She released his hand, "My uncle has told me so much about you."

Laughter bubbled out of him after hearing that, "That's honestly so terrifying."

She cracked a smile and laughed along with him, "I know what you mean."

She sat back down at her desk and gestured for Stiles to take the seat across from her, "I'm assuming you have something for me, or are you just touring the hills, showing off the fact that you're a new alchemy apprentice?"

She's sarcastic. He liked that a lot. "Not ready to show off yet, but Liften will be first on the tour when I do decided to announce myself to the world." And gave her a small wink.

Her smile dropped, demeanor changing completely. "Okay, what did you bring me?" Her hands clasping together in front of her as she leaned forward on her desk. "As much as I like flirting with you, I definitely have work to do today."

Stiles blushed bright red, he felt his chest heat up and embarrassment creep up his neck. He reached into the knapsack and pulled out the notes and books that were all crushed together in an unorganized heap.

He handed it to Marin,  "Deaton gave me this to give to you."

She flipped the book open, examined the notes, and stood up. "Thank you, Stiles."

Stiles belatedly realized that this was his sign to leave. "Oh, uh, yeah. No problem. Better head out. Make it home before dark."

"There's an inn right down the road, go get something to eat and tell them to put it on my bill."

Stiles stood up, "No, it's okay."

She looked at him, humorless and said, "Go get food, Stiles. Liften is famous for it’s hospitality."

He was too terrified to go against her wishes, so he just nodded, "okay, I will. Thank you"

She was walking toward the back of her office, "I'll see you around." And went back to looking at the notes Deaton had given her.

Stiles left without another word.

*********************************

Stiles kept his head down in the inn, he said he was a family friend of Marin's when he ordered his food. He just had a bad feeling about announcing that he was an alchemist apprentice because this wasn't a familiar town and many people associate alchemy with supernatural. This was a completely new territory for him and he needed to be on guard at all times.  

The inn was filled with patrons who were busy drinking wine and eating bread with cheese. It was mainly folk from the woods who came in from working to get a midday meal.

Stiles kept looking around. Trying to catch sight of something familiar, something that felt slightly like home but he knew that feeling he was chasing wouldn't be quelled here. These were different people living completely different lives and had no idea who he was.

He gnawed on his bread and drank his wine in silence. He tried to hurry through the meal in front of him, eager to make his way back home.

He finished up and told the barkeep he was ready to pay. The barkeep held up his hand saying, “that any friend of hers is a friend of his."

Stiles gave an awkward wave and rushed out the door where he ran into someone.

When he looked at who he ran into, a thrill of familiarity ran through him, but he couldn't place the face, "I'm sorry."

The guy stared at him intensely for a moment, he seemed to recognize Stiles as well, before he cleared his throat, "It's okay."

He knew that voice. Stiles walked straight to the road and refused to look back.

Stiles kind of wanted to stay and see who this person was and how he could possibly know him. He recognized the eyes, he had too much facial hair to be his age, he was too muscular to have lived a cushioned life in the Beacon, he had no idea who he reminded him of but that's all he thought about as he started to make his way back to the Beacon.

He walked along the path lined with yellow tassels. Admiring how they kept their vibrant color and didn't look dingy or remotely gross, _‘I wonder how many times they change it per year. I bet there’s a Tassel Counsel where they come before the Elders and say that they need to change them and request a budget or something.’_

He was pulled from his thoughts when he saw the brown wolf leap from the bushes and almost tackled him to the ground. Stiles laughed and kept walking. She kept leaping up to try and lick his face. So Stiles stopped walking so he could let her lick him. And if he was being honest, he really wanted to run his fingers through her fur and hug her tightly around the neck.

Stiles wanted to call her the name he called her when he was little, he wanted her to know he remembered, “I've missed you, Silly Baby.”

The name made her lick him harder, she purred with excitement, Stiles hands running all over her fur, "I guess my mother was right when she told me that the wolves would always be there to guide me home."

The wolf stopped licking his face so he could stand and continue walking back. The wolf let out a low whine, not moving from where she was. “It’s okay, Silly Baby. Tell the others I've missed them, if they can even remember me.”

Stiles gave her the biggest smile he could muster and turned to keep walking. He wiped the tears away when he could hear her move off the road.

He got home before the sun had set that evening.

His father was sitting in his chair, reading a scroll, and smiled so brightly when Stiles entered the room that he thought that he would start crying again right there in the living room.

***************************************************************

_Stiles could vividly remember this memory._

_He didn't want to relive this but he knew that he would be forced to endure it anyway._

_He was waiting by the stream, waiting for Derek. He smiled when he thought of his name, when he remembered his face. Derek._

_Derek had been meeting him by the stream every single day. He told Stiles that he didn't want him to be alone during the days. That he wanted to hang out with him and talk to him more since he wasn't able to when they were little._

_Stiles was picking up a hand-full of river sand and letting the silt fall through his fingers, leaving the bigger rocks in his palm so he could admire them. A giant amber colored stone stuck out, he admired it and rinsed it off, making it look shiny and nice, ‘I’ll save this one for Derek.’_

_He kept repeating the process of filtering the sand through his fingers and finding the best rocks._

_There was a shuffle of leaves and Stiles knew it was him. From across the stream he could see Derek running towards him, frantically._

_“Derek?”_

_Derek ran towards Stiles and pulled him into a rib crushing hug, and he whispered against his ear, hurriedly, “Don’t speak. I have to leave, Stiles. My Mom-,” his voice cracked, but coughed a little to regain a little bit of his composure, “We are leaving forever. Please don’t mention us. If you ever loved us, please don't tell anyone about us. Don’t come back here.”_

_Derek let go of him and Stiles was stunned into silence, he looked into Derek’s eyes and took note of how red they were, tears making tracks down his dirty cheeks, his hair wild and knotty._

_“Der-,” Stiles couldn't finish, he floundered to find the words that would make him stay, “Live with me, my father- he can protect you- all of you!”_

_Derek looked so pained, so upset and broken, “There are hunters, Stiles.” His body gave a shudder and he started crying hard, and Stiles was stunned, Derek was usually so stoic, he was the one that held all the calm-feelings, “We have to leave the entire area of the Hills.”_

_Stiles unconsciously reached for his hand, he wanted to be stronger for him but he was barely keeping it together, “Please don't. You’re all I have. You're my best friend.”_

_Derek pulled Stiles into a hug, he could feel Derek smelling his neck, deep inhales over and over again, and then pulled back to kiss him lightly on the forehead. “Don’t forget me.”_

_Stiles looked deeply into his eyes, took in all of his soft features that were trying to move into manhood, he tried to cling to him but Derek pushed him off and ran back across the stream and into the forest._

_Stiles stood, too stunned to move. Then he laid down by the stream, his ribs and hips getting poked by the rocks he planned on giving to Derek, and he curled up onto himself._

Stiles woke up sweating and clutching his blanket so hard he had to manually tell himself to let go.

He knew who that man was. He finally knew who he ran into. He felt the hurt in the core of his soul because it was Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You readers are so nice. 
> 
> *This chapter has mentions of previous self-harm*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo- I know some people hate stiles/ malia so a heads up because there's a tiny bit in this chapter. (I don't like stiles and malia in the show but I really like malia's character)  
> Once again if there's ANYTHING that needs to be tagged that I forgot just give me a heads up and I'll tag it immediately.

Thankfully, Stiles didn't have an ounce of spare time to spend thinking about Derek or any of the wolves. Really. And he couldn't have been happier about that. Really.

Deaton told him that the rune he had on his back would be his connector to the earth, since it was extracted from the earth. This single rune would serve all earth-alchemy that he practiced and Deaton was determined to hone in on the earth-alchemy before creating his next rune.

Earth-alchemy was tricky to describe but what Deaton had said was that ‘If the earth made it then the earth-alchemy rune could control it.’

Deaton had Stiles trying alchemy without drawing the different geometric shapes, he was trying to get him to imagine it in his head and get to a point where all he had to do was clap his hands together in front of him and he’d be able to produce results, but so far he’s been failing a fumbling with even the most basic alchemy.

The rune wasn't working in the way that he wanted it to. Stiles felt that he was at a loss with this rune, and it was frustrating because he felt the power tingling below the surface of his skin but nothing would happen. He knew it wasn't as powerful or as useful as it was suppose to be.

Stiles was becoming intensely frustrated by his lack of power with this rune. He knew it was inside of him, he felt the enchantment come out of his mind and tickle his rune but the rune wouldn't produce the desired reaction. He tried to rub his back where the rune was placed but he couldn't reach. He huffed out his breath and scratched his hands through his hair quelling the desire to actually pull his hair out from the root.

Deaton stood by Stiles and rubbed his head in frustration, “This rune is a part of you, you should be able to do this.”  

“I know!” Stiles shouted and then clapped his hands over his mouth, “I’m so sorry, that was completely inappropriate of me.” And then bowed his head down in embarrassment.

Deaton was completely unphased by this, “I’m just glad you’re as frustrated as I am at this point, Stiles.”

Stiles pounded his fist against his head repeatedly, not willing to look at Deaton, “What’s wrong with me?”

When he finally looked up, Deaton had taken a few steps away from him and was now staring out the window, “Let’s take the rest of the day to relax and find some inner peace. Your rune is blocked because of some mental or emotional reason, and you need to figure out what that is in order for it to work properly.”

Deaton shot Stiles a look from the window, a look that told Stiles that he needed to calm himself, so he conceded to Deaton, “Fine.”

Deaton crossed the room and grabbed him by the wrist, “Don’t practice any alchemy. I want you well rested and completely healthy tomorrow morning.”

Stiles looked up at him, feeling like he had failed him, “Yes, Sir.” Then walked out of the door and ran as fast as he could back to his house and down to the stream.

He kept hitting smacking his head with his fists over and over again. He knew he wasn't cut out for alchemy. He sort of felt like gloating for knowing that he had right been right all along. He knew he wasn't right and that there was something wrong with him.

He pulled the quartz out of his pocket and pressed his palms together with the quartz stuck between them and thought of water, of his mother, and alchemy.

The quartz began to warm, the heat spreading through his palms until it was almost in unbearable.

Stiles dropped it to the ground, willing himself to stop the quartz from burning anymore. At least his alchemy with the quartz still worked.

_‘You can't hurt yourself every time something doesn't go your way.’_ He picked it back up, no longer burning and pressed it to his arm. _‘You can't hurt yourself any more. It's not right’._  

He quieted his brain. No more alchemy today.

He sat cross-legged next to the water, careful not to let the water touch his clothes. He knew that getting your clothes wet during the cold-season was deadly. So he sat and let the thoughts run out of his brain. He allowed himself to think of Derek, and how he couldn't even remember him. Right in front of his face and the bastard couldn't remember who he was. Stiles didn't have the ability to remember by smell but Derek did. But Stiles didn't need smell. He'd always remember Derek no matter how many seasons passed between them.

Bastard.

Prick.

He let the anger boil through his blood. He hadn't realized how angry he was over this but now he felt it. After he seethed with rage for the better part of the afternoon, he tried to reason with the wolves and what happened. He tried to calm himself down by reasoning that they had no other choice than to leave him.

Maybe he's so angry because he didn't think that Derek would forget him that easy.

He thought of the baby wolf and how she played with him like he was still little, like they hadn't missed a beat in their friendship in the many seasons since she had been away. She was always so lovable, friendly, and completely different from Derek and the older sister. He wanted to see her again and play with her until they collapsed from exhaustion and laughter. She was probably the one that left all that food on his doorstep before the cold season hit, since Derek couldn't even remember him, or remember that he lived in the Hills and could have seen him at any point since he'd been back.

His body calmed, the fire in his heart rushed out of his breath and he felt a little less angry. The rune on his back began to buzz. 'Finally. I knew you were there.' 

**********************************************************************

 

Stiles left the stream and wandered back into town. He didn't know why he wanted to go back but he just felt like getting out and seeing a face other than his father's or Deaton's. He considered going to the inn and getting some wine, but wine muddled his brain and made alchemy difficult if he drank too much. Maybe there would be a vendor with some fresh root vegetables he could put in a stew for dinner. He could also go see Mrs. McCall, since it had been a few days since he saw her.

He walked across the main road, eyes on the ground, watching his boots slosh in the dirty snow that covered the side of the road. He smiled to the group of young kids that had just been released from their arithmetic class and he felt himself being yanked backwards and pushed against the wall between two buildings. He shut his eyes, afraid of what he'd see attacking him.

Then he felt a mouth on his, curious lips trying to get him to open his mouth to theirs. He opened his eyes and saw Malia in front of him, gasping for breath, still just as wild and beautiful as she was when they were in class together. Eyes full of mischief and hunger as she eyed him up and down.

"Feels just like old times, doesn't it?" And she fell forward to keep kissing him. Stiles put his hands on her waist to keep her body pressed against his, arching in the cramped space behind her father’s bakery.

His words were muffled by her lips on his, "Hey, Malia. Good to see you. Ah- ah-", she had her hand on the front of his breeches trying to make him hard. The more she felt him the more successful she was.

"Malia- we- we can't do this here." She gripped him firmly, but stroked him lazily, and he gasped, "Ah, shit."

She pulled away from his mouth, and grinned. "Then let's go to my room. My father is in Yusten shopping for ingredients." Her eyes shining with potential.

Stiles considered it, he liked doing this kind of stuff with her even if it had been awhile since he last saw her. He liked the way she touched him, he liked the fact that she really liked him and that she even wanted to be his friend after all this time.

"I thought we were suppose to wait until we were wed before seeing bedrooms." He gave her a mischievous smile right back and let his hands travel down to her ass and gave it a quick squeeze. Something didn’t feel right though.  

She looked him directly in the eye, "Stiles, if you think I'd ever marry you then you need to be sent to the mines." And went back to kissing him, her mouth trailing from his lips, to his cheeks, and focusing in on his neck. She sucked right below his ear and felt himself growing even harder.

It was their private joke that they've had since the very first time they started this. Stiles had been adamant about her keeping her virtue. Malia had promptly shut him down by saying that it was stupid and he was stupid if he believed that kind of stuff. She also said that she liked him even though she'd never ever marry him. Stiles was offended and asked why, and she laughed at him and just told him that they were bigger than this town, they'd find real love later. They just needed practice with each other and relieve some of their adolescent passions.

“So, do you want to come in?”

It would be so easy for him to just go into her room and do that stuff. They could fall in love, get married, have babies, and have a normal life. The life he wanted. The life his parents had. Stiles glanced back to the main road and saw the children throwing slush at each other. Red faced and tired, they screamed whatever obscenities they could think of at the ones throwing the hardest ice. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Malia.”

She removed her hand from his breeches and rested it on his shoulder.

He looked at her and pushed her hair away from her face so he could see if there was any real disappointment in her eyes. He needed to know if he made her feel bad about herself.

She looked up at him and stroked his cheek. She leaned forward and lightly kissed him on the mouth and smiled, “It’s okay.”

Her kindness made him feel awful. It made him feel guilty and disgusted by himself. They could have a life together! A normal life! _‘You should want this! You should want to touch her! Stop be like this!’_ The nerves started swelling through his body. He tried to fight the impulse to run away and he really needed to keep his breathing steady but he couldn't look her in the eye any longer.

“Stiles, it’s really okay. Please calm down.” She held him against her and swayed him gently, “There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to do that stuff!”

“What if I don’t want to do that stuff with any girl?” The air felt like it was punched out of his body as soon as he heard himself speak those words. He tried to keep the tears back, the admission of not being completely attracted to women was the worst feeling he ever felt, “There’s something wrong with me! I'm sorry, Malia.”

She let him panic against her. His breath was beginning to make a wet spot on the fabric resting on her shoulder. She just held him tighter and gently ran her fingers through his hair and patted his back.

“I don’t care if there’s something wrong with you. I love you, you sheep's-brain.”

Stiles laughed and pulled away from her. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

The false anger on her face only made Stiles laugh a little more, “I’m upset that you’d even ask that.”

She lightly kissed his mouth again and flattened his hair down, “Come over for dinner soon, okay?”

Stiles kissed her back, “I love you. Thank you.”

  
*************************************************

 

Stiles went into his room and laid down as soon as he got home, his father didn't even pause to ask why he didn't want dinner. Stiles was sick. He can’t even believe that he admitted out loud the perverse thoughts that spiraled through his brain.

But somehow he felt lighter. He felt that at least he had one person on his side. She loved him even though there was something wrong with him. Stiles pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes until he saw the night sky swirling under his eyelids.

"Son."

He pulled his hands away and saw his dad standing at the foot of bed, It wouldn't be a truly terrible day unless he got to disappoint his father before falling into sleep.

He spoke to him without any tone to his voice, "Hello, father. How was your day."

"Are you well, my boy?" Stiles saw concern filling his eyes, he owed it to his father to not give him any cause for concern or anguish.

"Oh, the usual. My rune won't work, my brain won't work, and neither will my body. I'm failing at every possible turn and I would like to lay in bed until I die."

His father took a seat at the end of his bed and Stiles placed his feet in his lap. He sighed and let his head fall back against his wall, "Now, I totally understand your sentiment but you should explain a little more."

Stiles huffed out a laugh, he didn't know which would scare his father more- the forbidden alchemy he was trying to do more of or the fact that he admitted to the only person he’d ever been intimate with that he was probably not attracted to women.

He stifled a laugh, "I'll just leave it at that. If I explain anymore then you'll probably send me to the mines."

His father didn't laugh, he didn't really move, he just kept patting his leg.

Stiles sat up so he could face his father, "Father, what's wrong?"

"It's just work. This particular string of incidents are starting to weigh heavy on me.

His father never got upset by his work so this was intriguing to him, his father wasn't the type to get emotionally invested. His professional detachment from all of the cases he tried to solve was a survival instinct. That's what he always told Stiles anyway. "Why? You're never this invested in your cases."

He kept patting his leg and stared at the ground, lost in thought, "I think it's because of the particular brutality of the murders and how we find them.” Then he lowered his voice even more, “and because most of the people murdered are about your age."

"Why are they all my age?"

"That's what we are trying to figure out, son."

Stiles pondered the thought, "I feel like it's the hunters. They've always given me a bad feeling."

"You can't make accusations like that."

"I know." But his father didn't know that one of the last things Derek ever said to him was that hunters were after him. "How were they murdered?"

"Stiles, don't make me relive this. I've already told you too much, please, keep this information to yourself."

Stiles gave his father a light punch on the shoulder, "Dad! You know I'm not the town gossip!"

His father finally smiled, "I don't believe that." He coughed to make his voice sound more serious and looked into his eyes, "I'm being serious though. I need you to be careful. These murders are happening all over the Hills. They are happening everywhere and there are no true leads so I need you to be extra careful, especially now that you're involved with forbidden alchemy."

His father laid back on the bed, "Now tell me your troubles."

"Just hearing about your day has put my own troubles into perspective for me. I honestly feel lighter now."

"Troubles don't just vanish because you've heard something worse. You can always tell me anything, son."

Stiles wished that were true, he wished that he could tell his father about the alchemy and how it pulls out something in him that makes him feel powerful, and about how he thinks of Derek and the wolves all the time and how he even saw Derek in Liften, but he couldn't.

"I promise you that I feel much better."

"Is it work? Is Deaton putting too much pressure on you? I can talk to him and-,"

Stiles waved his hands, trying to get his father to stop talking, "No, you don't have to do that." He put a reassuring hand on his father, "I'm feeling better. Just being able to talk with you makes me feel better."

His dad looked at him, eyes getting watery, and leaned over to hug him. “I love you. I’m always here for you.”

Stiles couldn't help but choke up a little as well, “I know and I love you, too.”

His father got off his bed, kissed his forehead, and walked towards his own room, “Go to sleep, Stiles, we have work in the morning."

Stiles adjusted his head against the pillow so he could burrow deeper into the softness and thought about how he could help his father solve these murders instead of his own inner dilemmas.

***************************************************************************************

Stiles came into the office announcing that he was cured and Deaton held the skeptical look on his face until Stiles could actually prove that he did in fact work out some issues and could successfully use his rune.

Deaton kept his eyebrows raised, “What did you do yesterday?”

Stiles sat on the ground and kept filling the cup in front of him up with water without saying a word. He was now trying to get enough skill so that he could quit clapping his hands together every time he finished this enchantment in his mind. “Nothing."

Deaton watched him, his eyes never leaving Stiles. He could feel his eyes follow him, like a crawling on the back of his neck. He felt his presence always near him, closing in on him like he was prey. He watched him speak enchantments, he watched him gather specific ingredients for new enchantments, he was even a little worried that he was going to come outside and watch him relieve himself.

Around lunchtime it became too much, he watched him chew the dried deer meat, and the baked bread, trying to figure something out about him, "Why are you watching my every move, am I that interesting?"

Deaton smiled, “Not really. But I’m just curious as to how you managed to push whatever was bothering you so far to the back of your mind to where your rune is working flawlessly again.”

Stiles just kept eating, “I don’t know why it would matter. My rune is fine- which means I am fine.”

“That’s a false assumption and a very stupid one.”

Stiles felt the irritation bubble beneath his skin, he just didn't care- If the rune worked then Deaton could leave him alone and quit asking questions. Stiles tried his best to remain calm and not let his irritation get the best of him, “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to say that I ignored the issue? Or that I walked home to my dad and told him every single thing that’s wrong with my life?”

“I just don’t want you to think that ignoring the issues and emotions you feel is acceptable as long as you're rune is working. Because sooner or later there could be more issues."

Stiles shrugged it off, going for a more passive tactic instead, "Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

Deaton let it go and Stiles continued eating. All of a sudden Stiles wished that he didn't have to stay until sunset, he wished he could leave and go spend time with Malia, or Scott, if he were here. Anything to distract him from remembering what was wrong with him. Deaton was starting to notice that there were flaws in Stiles brain and personality. He could admit that there was something wrong with him but having someone else point it out to him? It was a terrible feeling.

Deaton broke Stiles thoughts, "Would you want to work on your next rune?"

"You mean making the quartz into rune on my body?"

Deaton took a seat at the table across from Stiles, stretching his hands in front of him on the table. "No, the arrowhead."

Stiles would have to draw this one on himself, he'd have to carve into his body with a knife and make himself bleed. He'd have to hurt himself. He didn't know if he could do it.

"Will you do it for me?- I mean, I'll draw the rune and I'll make sure the place represents something specific to the arrowhead, but will you carve it into my body?"

Deaton was quiet for a moment, "I will."

"Thank you."

"The quartz is connected to you in a way that I can’t understand, and I know it’s going to be where you draw the most power from. So you're going to have to do that one yourself, okay?"

"That's fine." Even though it didn't sound fine at all.

****************************************

The next day, Stiles was laying on table in the back room of Deaton's office with his tunic pulled off his right shoulder. He still couldn't bring himself to pull his tunic all the way off, he still didn't think he was ready to show Deaton what was really wrong with him.

Deaton had asked why his right shoulder and Stiles told him it was because the stream he found the arrowhead in was part of him like one of his own hands. Deaton accepted his answer, and the little intricate drawing he had for the rune. Stiles also said that this would be the rune that he would use specifically for restoration, because he equated water with more restoration elements.

So Stiles kept himself still as Deaton cut into his skin.

Once it was completed, Deaton rubbed a salve on his shoulder and covered it with gauze to keep it from bleeding through and onto his tunic.

"Do you think you can perform a simple restoration enhancement?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Deaton, "Well, I hope so."

Stiles decided which enchantment would fit his new rune. He saw the dying basil leaves sitting on Deaton's window sill and decided to restore them. He recited the enchantment in his head and before he could clap his hands together, the leaves sprang back to life, the base of the plant turning deep green.

Stiles couldn't believe it! "Whoa! Did you see that? I didn't even have to clap my hands together at all."

Deaton smiled so brightly he could see all of his perfectly white teeth, "Look at your power flow."

******************************************

These murders were weighing heavily on his father, he saw it from the moment he walked into the house and kept seeing it etched on his face when ever he saw him walk to his bedroom, make tea in the kitchen, and sit down to read his scrolls. There was a dark cloud hanging over his father's head and it was making him extremely grim.

His father's perturbed state made Stiles on edge. He lived to please his father, to make him feel normal, to make him feel like everything was okay. If it wasn't okay, he assumed that his father would forget him again, would start drinking all day, and sleeping whenever he could, and just forget to care for him.

Stiles scolded himself, his father wouldn't do that to him, _‘you're a grown man, you can take care of yourself even if he did get bad again.’_

He would prevent his father from getting bad. He would just be there for him, by being a good son, by looking out for him, "Father, would you like some stew, or some cheese and bread?"

"No thank you, son."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," and motioned for Stiles to sent next to him in the living area. "I'm worried about these murders, Stiles. Especially because they are targeted towards kids your age. Every time I see a body- It makes me feel like it could be you-", his father broke that chain of thought.

Stiles laid his hand on top of his fathers. He wanted to break the trance that his father was in, forget about the murders for just one evening, "Hey, don't get mad at me, but look," and pulled down the top of his tunic to show the gauze pad, he pulled away the gauze pad to show his father the new rune.

His father winced at the wound but pat him on the back with a smile. "Did it hurt? Are you okay?" His father got up and got a bowl of water and an old towel.

He didn't want his father making a big deal out of it, he was just trying to clear his mind. This was the opposite of what he was trying to do. He needed his father to sit, to be calm, and feel peace. "Father it's okay! Sit down. I can do it!"

"Stiles, let me take care of my only child!” He filled the bowl full of water and put it on top of the wood-stove so it could warm, “Let me be thankful of the fact that I have a child I can take care of, please."

Stiles shrank back into his seat, feeling small. He didn’t know what his father meant but he’d let his father take care of him if that’s what he wanted, "You take care of me. I just want you to relax. I know work is awful right now."

His father pulled the tunic down so he could clean where the blood had dried on his skin. His fathers hands were gentle on his fresh and open wound. "Taking care of you makes me feel relaxed. When I get to get off work and see you here, I feel much better."

"Really?"

"Yes! Stiles-", his father sighed, “When I had to patrol the perimeter almost every single night after work before the winter season came, I felt sick leaving you here alone.” He put another piece of gauze padding over the wound to keep it from bleeding in the night. "You're the most important thing in my life. I know you don't trust that, I know I hurt you after your mom died, I-I- didn't know how to handle it, but please believe me when I say this: you mean every thing to me."

Stiles didn't hide his tears, his father looked away from him, putting the bowl and rag in the bucket of unclean bowls near the wood-stove. When he turned to face Stiles, he held his arms out and Stiles fell into a hug.

"I love you, Father. And thank you for not getting mad that I have another rune."

His father flicked the side of his head, "I'm letting it go for now. But don't think I won't bring it up at some point."

****************************************************

The next day Deaton started working his rune to the point of ruin. He told Stiles that the stronger it was and the harder he worked it, the better his restoration abilities would be. Stiles didn't care, really. He just wanted to stop and take a break from this.

Deaton told him that they wasted too much time between the first rune and this new one. He needed Stiles to push himself and to make sure that he was always pushing himself or his alchemy would never be great.

Stiles was fairly certain he'd never be great but he'd humor Deaton.

"Before we start on the quartz I have a task for you, Stiles."

_‘Oh, no.’_

"It's going to be a task of skill and trickery."

Stiles couldn't help but let his nerves surface. He knew what Deaton was implying, he knew he'd have to travel to another part of the Hills.

"There's a woman in Throughten that grows all the mint for almost every alchemist and apothecary in the Hills.”

Stiles gave a nod to indicate he was still listening.

“Her entire crop of mint is dying this year. She doesn't know why."

Stiles kept nodding.

“I need you to go to her greenery and restore all of the plants.”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders, it actually didn't sound that hard, “Sounds easy enough.”

“It's not. You can’t use your rune in front of her, you can’t even let her know you have one. You have to trick her, Stiles.”

“So what am I suppose to do?”

Deaton looked at him pointedly, “This is alchemy, Stiles. You’re going to have to learn to be sneaky. This right here is what I do all the time. I have to use cleverness more than I have to use any rune.”

Stiles got distracted by that last fact. He never really thought that Deaton would have a rune, “I didn't know you had a rune.”

Deaton sighed and rubbed the side of his head, “Of course I do. That’s not the point.”

Stiles watched him as he stood by the window, rubbing his head. He saw how weathered Deaton looked. He could see the lines on his face more prominently and the white of his hair shone in the midday sunlight. He remembers Deaton being old when he was just a small boy stacking blocks on the floor in his office next to his mother.

He couldn't help but wonder if Deaton was setting him up to be a successor for if he died. He hoped that he wasn't.

Stiles couldn't help but try to ease Deaton’s worries, “I’ll figure something out. Just let me think about it.”

Deaton pulled his hand away from his head and stared at him, “Of course. But you’ll do it? I’m not trying to pressure you into doing a task you don’t feel ready for.”

“I’ll do it.”

Deaton sighed and sat down at his desk, Stiles could see the tension seep out of his shoulders, “Thank you.”

****************************************************************

Stiles shifted the rucksack higher on his back to keep it from dragging his shoulders down and making his neck hurt any more than it already did. He slept on the padded seat in the living area for part of the night and then wandered around the kitchen for another part. His nerves kept him from dreaming and when he did manage some sleep, there was always a terrifying set of  images that made his eyes open immediately.

The sun began rising as he trotted along to the trees lined with blue tassels, the blue tassels represented the road to Throughten. The travel to Throughten would take less than a full day but he still wanted to get it over with as fast as he could. He didn't like the idea of leaving his father alone for almost 2 days.

The plan was for him to stay overnight and meet the widow, Ms. Blake, at her house in the morning. Then if he had time he would head home that evening or just stay another night at the inn.

Deaton had told him that Ms. Blake didn't trust alchemists normally, but she said she felt a little more trustworthy of a young man instead of an old alchemist who knew too much. Deaton had to warn him that she was horribly disfigured after years of abuse from her husband who would torture her with dark alchemy.

So, Stiles understood why it was so important for her to know that he was helping her naturally.

Which was what he was going to do, in a way.

He had the mortar and pestle and was going to make a concoction with the dead mint leaves and then enhance that mixture with his rune and place it in the soil.

He decided that he would allow the mixture to slowly restore the mint. Because if the widow saw an instant effect, she would know he used his rune. He wanted her to feel safe with Stiles as an alchemist. He realized that he needed to start building the trust of the people in the Hills if he was going to be a good alchemist.

**  
*****************************************************

Stiles never knew how desolate and dilapidated Throughten was. He always heard it was the town that most people assumed the criminals lived in, and after seeing  it with his own eyes he knew they weren’t wrong about that. The inn, if it could be called an inn, was a two story house that held more rats than actual people.

He didn't feel like mingling with the patrons that sat at the bar overindulging in wine and ale. He just wanted to go to the room and lay down and try to sleep. When he got to the room all he saw was a raised bed of hay and and wool baby blanket draped over it. He laid down and tried to make himself comfortable but all he could hear were the men and women downstairs yelling about one topic for debate or another. One man played his lyre as loudly as possible and Stiles just tried to be patient, he knew they’d finish and go home soon.

He wondered why no wolves guided him to his destination this time. Maybe they just lived in Liften. Stiles didn't want to think about the wolves, he couldn't afford to get emotional now. His nerves were already elevated just by thinking about his dad being almost a day away from him, and how there were people murdering young adults, it made the urge to hurt himself grow and he didn't want that.

In the back of his brain he hoped that maybe the wolves were at his house making sure his father was safe and making sure he didn't feel alone while he was gone. He imagined that the baby wolf was peering into his window watching his father read his scroll and finally get himself into bed. His imaginings were settling something deep inside of him even if he knew it wasn't true.

Stiles’ nerves still roared inside of his body as he forced himself into a sleep-like state. He was so exhausted from the lack of sleep from the night before but his nerves kept his eyes wired open.

_‘Sleep, Stiles. You'll hate yourself for staying up all night.’_

He balled his fists and smacked them against his head as he saw the sun rise. He felt some relief in knowing that he survived a night in the scariest room he’s ever been in, he pulled on his boots and ran his fingers through his hair. He wanted to look kind of presentable for the widow but he knew that he’d just look like a little boy stumbling around trying to do minor alchemy.

He walked out of the inn and followed the map down to where Ms. Blake’s home would be. He made sure to note everyone he saw as he left that morning, he made sure to note who was leaving to go to the mill and to the mines, and he also noticed that he was probably the youngest person in the entire town.

Ms. Blake’s home was backed next to the bottom border of Wren, which made sense because that was the area where most of the food was grown. Her house was a small cottage with a backyard filled with steam-houses that kept the mint safe from the cold.

Her home looked so out of place in the area of Throughten. Her cottage was quaint and well-built, and her garden in the front was well taken care of and beautiful. Stiles couldn't imagine why this woman would live in such a rough area of the Hills.

He approached the door and shook off some of the jitters he still felt and he knocked on her door. Nothing prepared him for what he saw when Ms. Blake opened her door and ushered him inside. Stiles took her extended hand and tried desperately not to stare at her, he didn't want her to think he was rude or was afraid of her disfigurement. Her face looked as if it had been burned and that fluids were still trapped inside of the wounds. Her face was swollen and distended and her right eye could barely open at all. She stood with her head held high and her shoulders poised and regal, she seemed so elegant and graceful and after a while of her talking about the mint plants and how this season was especially hard, her disfigurement barely registered with him.

She invited him to the backyard but kept close to the house, unwilling to go all the way to the steam-houses. Stiles understood. He knew she didn't dare go out in the day because people would be able to see her and she didn't want people to ever see her. She lived in the shadows of Throughten because she was afraid of how people would see her.  

She brought him some tea that she placed on the table close to her house. She watched from her back window as he picked a dead leaf off of each plant and added it to his mixture. Stiles didn't want to be in her steam-house crying for her but he couldn't help that a few tears escaped whenever he thought about it. Stiles ran back into her house when he was finished all sweaty, and covered in dirt, she handed him a towel to wipe his face with and brought him more tea. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Ms. Blake.”

She insisted that he call her Jennifer and when he left she gave him a silver coin that he pointedly tried to refuse. But she wouldn't accept it. “Well then you must contact me if there’s anymore issues with the mint or with anything I can help with.”

"I will,” She went to wipe the strand of hair away from her face and Stiles could see the burn scars on her own arms, “Buy something from the general store. Something sweet. You deserve it."

“Thank you.”

Stiles left without another word. He was horrified that someone in the world hurt this soft spoken woman. He'd ask his father if he knew anything about the man who hurt her, or if it were possible to track him down and torture him.

Stiles did decide to go to the general store before leaving. He wanted to see if anyone was in there, anyone who looked suspicious. Because if there was someone killing kids his age, chances are they came from Throughten.

The store was empty aside from a few people who were standing around the area to refill their water pouches. He grabbed a sweet bread roll and headed to the counter to pay. He heard heavy footsteps behind him and knew that the men filling up their pouches were right behind him.

"Well, look at this." and Stiles couldn't help but smirk to himself.

Stiles spun around to hear where the voice came from. A giant man with black stringy hair that clung to his neck and forehead stared him down. Two other men hung behind the giant greasy man, sneering at Stiles.

The giant greasy man kept talking, "Sheriff's boy is pretty far from home, isn't he?"

Stiles swallowed and kept meeting their gaze, trying his hardest to remain calm and look like he was tougher than he was. So he kept his smirk on his face.

The man in the back stepped forward, he looked like one of the rats that lived in the inn, "I hear that he's not following in his fathers footsteps though. He's going to be an alchemist."

The man behind the counter finally spoke, "Men, quit harassing the boy or leave my store."

"We aren't harassing him, we're just wondering what he's doing here."

The man counted out three bronze coins and gave them to Stiles, "You answered that. He's an alchemist."

The greasy haired man stared down the man sticking up for Stiles and walked outside without a word.

The guy who wrapped up his sweet bread looked at Stiles, "Be careful around here. These folk aren't welcoming of others from the different parts of the Hills."

"Thank you.” He reached out and grabbed the bread, “I'll keep that in mind."

Stiles stuffed the bread into his rucksack and hurried outside. He looked for the road that led to home before the men caught sight of him and really hurt him.

He kept his head down and collar up as he made his way towards the blue tasseled trees.

He felt in his bones that those thugs were following him but he was going to fight, he'd use his rune if he had too. He'd kill them if it came down to that.

He was the only one on the road and could tell by the way his boots crunched with each step. But he knew there were people in the bushes, he heard the crunch of leaves and rustling of small branches- he could tell he was surrounded for the most part.

He hiked the rucksack up and pushed the sleeves of his tunic up to his forearm. He knew he didn't need the fabric in his way if he needed to use his rune.

He kept walking, trying to remain calm, he didn't want these thugs, or hunters or whatever they were, to think he was afraid of them.

His mental reverie was disrupted when the blonde, rat-like man burst through the tree line in front of him.

He was panting and sweating and stared Stiles down, “Don’t you know that walking alone is dangerous.”

Stiles kept his eyes on him and the enchantment for fire on the tip of his tongue. He heard the giant greasy haired man step behind him, he could hear him wheezing and struggling to catch his breath.

“Your father can’t protect you everywhere you go.”

At the mention of his father he felt brave. He cocked his head to the side and smiled, “Don’t think we aren't on to you. Your murders are really sloppy.”

“We’ll make sure that your father can’t recognize your ugly face when he finds your body.”

Stiles smirk grew, “You underestimate my father.”

The greasy haired man fell forward and tried to get Stiles into a headlock from behind but he was too slow and Stiles dodged it without much effort. The rat like man yelled and ran forward, and Stiles thought of sand and suddenly sand filled his fists and he threw it in the rat-man's eyes.

He went down in a flash and clutched his eyes, “You son of a bitch.”

Stiles remembered that there was a third man when he heard more movement from the tree line. The greasy haired man kept trying to lunge at him but he was too big and Stiles was too agile.

They stared at each other until he heard movement behind him. He turned and saw a black wolf staring and snarling at the greasy haired man.

The greasy man’s mouth fell open, “You- You- What is this?”

The wolf made a move to lunged at him but the giant man fell backwards and scrambled to run in the other direction back to Throughten. The rat-man who was still struggling on the ground tried to focus on the wolf but stumbled the way the greasy haired man was running off to.

Stiles took his opportunity and sprinted towards the trees and the wolf followed him. He prayed to any divine power to get him out of there in one piece.

Branches kept swatting at his face and legs and he knew there was blood dripping from under his eye from where one must have hit him. The wolf followed him intently, staying right on his heels and ushering him forward whenever he slowed. 

Stiles didn't register the pain until he fell flat on his face but when he looked down to see what tripped him up he saw the arrow sticking out of his pants and fought the urge to vomit. Anatomically he knew it went through the meat of his calf, which was better than if the arrow hit his bone, but that still didn't stop him from panicking.

The wolf stopped and moved in front of Stiles, then the wolf bowed their head low and Stiles knew to put his arms around their neck. He was being dragged into an area shielded by trees and bushes, deep into a crevice that would keep him hidden. The wolf nosed dead leaves over where Stiles laid and then stood stock still next to him in the shadows. He knew that the wolf was protecting him, that hunters would be circling the area looking for his body or the wolf’s. Thankfully, the pain was numbed from the shock he was experiencing but it didn't stop the blood from leaking out in a scary amount.  

Stiles knew the wolf had camouflaged him well enough from these amateur thugs and he tried to regulate his breathing so no one could hear him wheeze. He needed the thugs to pass by him and then he could limp to safety.

Both of them stood as still as they could for as long as they could. He could tell that the wolf heard nothing, even with the special hearing. Stiles wanted to ask questions, to see if he knew them or if they knew Derek, or any of his siblings.

Stiles nerves may have subsided the pain during the heat of the moment, but now the pain was coming on with a dull ache that he felt all over his body. The wolf must have sensed his heart hammering in his chest for a reason other than nerves. The wolf shifted to lay next to him so he could lay behind him. Stiles wanted to stay alert but the insistence of sleep fell upon him and he reasoned that sleep would be good for him. He just needed some sleep.  

Stiles couldn't see the wolf behind him as it let out a low whine he figured that meant the wolf was okay with him sleeping, he finally let the darkness overcome his eyes.

*********************************************************************

_When he woke up his stomach felt like needles rolling around inside of his stomach, like they were trying to crawl out of his stomach through his mouth, so he rolled over and dry-heaved until his stomach cramped up tight._

_He looked down at his body and saw that his tunic was off and was tied above where the arrow stuck out of his leg. Too many emotions were turning inside of him. His head hurt to think and his body felt like jelly. He needed his shirt on, he didn't want anyone to see his arms or his runes._

_A soothing shushing noise came from behind him, “Stiles. Calm down.”_

_He cleared his throat, dry from disuse and dehydration, and tried to sit up to see where the voice came from._

_The familiar voice kept shushing, “Hold on. Hold on. It’s me. You know me."_

_Stiles felt his body shift forward and felt arms come from behind him and hold his middle. The body was solid against his back and he was able to turn to see where the voice was coming from._

_Derek._

_Stiles reached his hand out to stroke his cheek, the hair on his face tickling his fingertips, “You found me.”_

_Derek smiled, white teeth peeking from his lips, his eyes illuminating as he pushed a strand of Stiles' hair from his forehead, “Of course.”_

_Stiles felt himself smile. His heart content and then the darkness clouded his eyes again._

*******************************************************

When he woke up his stomach was aching and his body shuddering from the cold. The ground was dank and moist against his naked upper body. He rolled over and tried to push himself off the ground. His arms gave way before he could position himself up and his head smacked back against the ground. In a fit of frustration, he slammed his fists against the ground and tried not to cry.

He heard footsteps in the darkness coming towards him.

“Please don’t kill me.”

The figure stepped in front of him. “I won’t hurt you, Stiles.” He vaguely recognized the voice, maybe he dreamt about this person while he was out. Maybe this person has been talking to him while he beat him.

They held a candle and bent down to see him, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I just had to get the arrow out. It was making you sick.”

Stiles saw Derek in front of him, soft, delicate, and covered in his blood. He held a soft smile that seemed only for Stiles. The last time he saw him in Liften he didn't notice that Derek looked like he was many seasons older than Stiles, even though he knew that he and Derek were the same age.

Stiles tried to back away from him but his muscles were tensed and unwilling to move, he didn't know why he wanted to get away from him but he felt embarrassed and he felt betrayed but over everything he felt extremely angry at him. “You’re an asshole. Why’d you even help me?”

He gathered a little strength to get into an upright position.

Derek’s face fell.

So Stiles kept up, looking at him directly in the eye, “You left me all those seasons ago. I was starving, scared, and alone- and you left me.” Then he looked away. He couldn't take looking at Derek anymore. “You should have stayed gone.”

Derek looked back up at him, anger pulling his eyebrows close together on his forehead. “You’re making it sound like I had a choice in the matter.” His voice sounded pinched and strained as he spoke. Stiles could hear his odd accent thicker now that he was angry.

He decided to change the subject and let the anger go for a second, “So, how long have I been out?”

Derek’s eyebrows relaxed a little, “Almost a full day. You hallucinated and screamed most of the night and then sun rose not too long ago.”

The urge to vomit came back along with his heart rate, "A full day?”

Derek crouched closer and handed him a bowl of something that resembled porridge, “It’s okay. No one knows we’re here. I’ll get you home once your leg can take some weight and the sun has set.”

Stiles tried to pull himself up and noticed his breeches were gone, “My father is going to be worried. He’s probably panicking. I hope he’s not worried. What if something happens to him?”

Derek sat the porridge aside so he could help him up, Stiles was so angry that he was being nice to him, he wanted to pull away from him and force himself to do this himself. He didn't need Derek’s help or pity. But Stiles was in pain and still felt like his stomach would collapse if he tried to get up without help.

When Derek got his hands on his forearms to help him up he became extremely aware of how exposed his chest and arms were, “I need a tunic and breeches. Where’s my tunic?”

Derek let go of Stiles so he could rifle through his own rucksack. Stiles stood awkwardly balancing on one leg while Derek searched for it, “Here,” and tossed up the balled up tunic to him, “I had to use yours to stop the bleeding and the breeches were completely covered in blood.”

In the back of his mind he remembers that happening. Stiles can’t grasp the memory though. He just knows there’s some familiarity around the edges.

Stiles took the tunic offered and put it on. He couldn't be bothered to care if Derek saw the scars or the runes at this point.

“Where’d you get the rucksack from?”

Derek pulled out a pair of breeches for him and tossed them to him. “This is one of our hide-outs. We keep spare clothing here so we can’t shift from wolf to human and have clothes to wear.”

Stiles just stared at him.

“Will you sit down, please? You need to try and get some energy back.”

Derek looked at Stiles like he couldn't understand him, he looked like he was pleading with Stiles and he felt obligated to sit down and allow Derek to give him porridge.

Stiles put some weight back onto his injured leg, he noted that it didn't hurt too terribly and struggled to sit down on the ground. Derek winced when he watched Stiles get off balance again and almost fall on his head.

“I’m fine.”

Derek smiled and handed him the bowl, “I know.”

He sat across the floor from Derek. All he wanted to do was ask questions and drink in the sight of his face illuminated by the candle that sat between them but the hunger and anger overcame his desire for anything other than food.

He stole glances of Derek between bites, he looked soft and gentle, just like the boy he use to play with everyday. The seasons he weathered had been kind to him and his development into manhood had done wonders for him as well. Objectively, he was handsome. But Stiles didn't care to notice that kind of stuff. “You look so different but still the same, isn't that weird? I feel like I know you so well but I have no idea who you are.”

Derek looked at the ground and smiled to himself. Stiles couldn't help but smile right back, anger being leached out of him at the sight of the crinkles by his eyes.

“You still get embarrassed whenever someone is nice to you.”

Derek shifted where he sat and stretched his arms over his head and yawned, “So you’re an alchemist now?”

Stiles shrugged, “According to my father and Doctor Deaton, I've always been one.”

“That’s what my mom always use to say, too.”

Stiles stood still, “Your mom knew about me?”

Derek laughed, mirroring the same laugh he always heard escape his lips when he was a boy. “My mom use to always come home after seeing you and your mom and say, ‘Claudia’s son is the most reckless and energetic boy I've ever seen,’ and then would pat me on the head and smile.” Derek smiled at Stiles. Stiles couldn't help but smile when he heard his mother's name come out of his mouth. Derek kept talking though, “My mom didn't know that you would get into Cora’s head and make her just as reckless.”

Stiles cocked his head to the side and tried to catch the porridge dribbling out of his mouth, “Cora?”

“Oh, I was never allowed to say their names. It was one of my mom’s weird rules. Cora is my little sister.”

“Silly-baby!”

“Yes! She loved you! Cora was so enamored by you, she’d come home and just talk about you for hours. I think your name was the first word she ever spoke.”

Stiles laughed, “Did she tell you that she guided me to Liften?”

Derek nodded, the yellow in his eyes catching the light of the candle, “She was in a den near Liften and caught your scent immediately. She came home so excited. She kept talking about how you recognized her and how you still know us and want to be friends with us. She was so happy that you didn't forget us.”

Stiles was shocked from Derek’s admission, but he tried to remain aloof so he shrugged and whispered to himself, “I could never forget you.”

Derek rested his hand against Stiles leg, “I know. We never forgot you, either.”

Stiles tried to stop his impulsivity and his heart-rate but he couldn't. He delicately put his hand on top of Derek’s and tried to stop his nerves from making him pull away. He looked into his eyes, “What happened, Derek?”

Derek stared into his eyes and pulled away from Stiles so he could stand up. Stiles was so embarrassed by his actions, he should have never touched him. Derek dug through his rucksack to pull out a blanket. “Go back to sleep, Stiles. We’ll get you back home once night falls.”

Stiles took the blanket from Derek and in a slight movement he felt Derek grab his wrist, then his hand shifted and he held his fingers in his palm gently. Stiles didn't look up at Derek, but he remained still, not wanting him to stop and disgusted that he’d even feel that way.

Derek let go of his hand, “Go to sleep.”

Then he blew out the candle and Stiles was left sitting in the dark with his heart still hammering in his chest.

****  
  


**   
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never expected even 1 person to read this so thank you. Also, there's no age difference between stiles and derek. They're both about 20-22 (the whole 18/24 age difference seems really predatory to me (i'm honestly battling something really personal and awful and it involves with this exact age difference in my real life right now and it's such a shitty situation (which isn't to say that I'm bagging on age differences at all) I just can't really get behind age differences right now.)


	4. Chapter 4

_Stiles watched the muscles in Derek's back flex as he hurled the rock into the water. He could see Derek watching the rock intensely and then clapped when the rock skipped twice across the surface. "Try beating that."_

_Stiles sat quietly by the waters edge. Hands skimming the rough rocks that he felt underneath his thighs. He was so hungry he could barely keep his eyes open. He didn't want to get up and throw rocks, he wanted food. He wanted his dad to wake up and talk to him, or at least give him some coins so he could go get food from somewhere._

_Derek’s voice cut through his thoughts,"What's wrong? Why is your heart so slow today?"_

_Stiles looked up at Derek who was smiling to himself and throwing rocks into the shallow parts of the stream. Stiles noticed that Derek was always smiling whenever he saw him. "You can hear my heart?"_

_"Yeah," Derek looked over at Stiles and then dropped the rocks and sat down close to Stiles, knees brushing his. "Tell me what is bothering you. I can make it better."_

_Stiles rubbed his ribs. "My stomach hurts."_

_"When was the last the time you had food?"_

_Stiles actually had to think about it. He hadn't eaten today, or yesterday. He had bread and stew from the McCall's a few nights ago when Scott invited him over for dinner. "About 2 nights ago."_

_Derek shrunk away from him like he had struck him, the horrified expression on his face made his eyes look crazed. "Stiles-", Derek rushed to stand up. Stiles couldn't believe that he just admitted how bad things had gotten with his father, "Stay here Stiles. I'll be right back."_

_Stiles felt small and sick, "Why are you leaving me?"_

_Derek crouched down in front of him to shush him with soothing sounds. He didn't need food, he needed the only person in his life to stay next to him and not leave him alone. He was so tired of being alone, "No. No. I'll be right back. I'm not leaving."_

_Stiles pulled his knees to his chest and stopped looking at Derek. Then he felt a hand on the back of his neck. "I'll be right back, I promise."_

_Stiles gave a slight nod and felt the the hand vanish._

_His head dropped against his knees that were still pressed tightly to his chest. His hands wandered against the stones the were on the ground below him and his eyes began to fall shut. He jerked himself awake. He wanted to be awake when Derek came back. He could do it. He could keep himself awake so Derek would still play with him. He allowed himself to drift between sleep and awareness like it was a game._

_Then he finally heard Derek crashing through the bushes on the opposite side of the stream looked up to watch Derek pause so he could put on the breeches he kept stashed bushes, and Stiles couldn't help but smile._

_He had a rucksack on his back and sat back down next to Stiles. "I brought you some food. So your stomach will stop hurting."_

_Stiles watched him wipe the sweat from his brow, he didn't want Derek's pity, he didn't need him to know that his father had forgot about him. Stiles pushed the rucksack back to Derek,"It's okay, I don't need you-"_

_"No, you have to do this for me-", he pushed the hair on his forehead up, "My, uh, mother, she's been telling me that I need to bring you food- We do that during grieving. We, uh, always give food because remembering to eat is hard when you're not feeling well."_

_Stiles looked at Derek and tried his hardest to smile. He tried to say thank you with his eyes instead because he wasn't sure that his mouth could actually say it without letting out a few sobs. He saw the bushy eyebrows relax once he registered Stiles smile._

_Stiles pulled out the dried meat and took a bite. He was so hungry that he almost started weeping when the sweet meat touched his mouth. He didn't want Derek to think that he was some poor child he needed to take care of but he was extremely grateful for Derek's kindness. He just kept eating until his ribs finally stopped hurting, "Thank you, Derek."_

_Derek stared at him, his mouth hanging open while Stiles licked the salt off of his fingers, Stiles saw him visibly relax and let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. Stiles reached out to put his hand on the back of his neck and gave a light squeeze. "Well now I guess I have beat you at skipping rocks."_

************************************

Stiles woke up disoriented and aching, and when he looked up he saw bright eyes looking down at him.

Derek turned away, and Stiles saw the embarrassment creep up his neck because he was caught looking at him while he slept. Stiles smirked, he felt like he had won something.

Derek ignored his smirk, "Does your leg feel okay enough to walk? We need to get you back to the Beacon."

Stiles stretched his leg out in front of him to examine the damage. He saw that it was no longer bleeding and starting to harden his skin where the arrow entered and exited. The meat of the injury hurt when he put pressure on it but he could make it to the Beacon. He had to.

"I'm ready."

"I'm sure you're ready, Stiles, but I don't think you want me to carry you the entire way."

"I don't care if you do. I need to get back to my father."

Derek didn't look at Stiles. He just shrugged and put the rucksack on his back.

Stiles couldn't help but feel bitterness creep into his words, "If you need to get back to wherever you're from then I can get back by myself."

Derek rolled his eyes and scowled at Stiles, "Why would I make you fend for yourself? Why would I have helped you this much if I was just going to make you crawl back to the Beacon?"

Stiles just looked at him, expressionless. He couldn't believe the irony that laid inside of that question so he chose not to respond or even acknowledge it. He just put his breeches on over his underclothes and tried to keep his wound away from the thick fabric that would try to cling to the blood on his calf.

"Will your father be able to help you when you arrive back to the Beacon?"

Stiles felt his voice harden with a defensive emotion, "He's not like he was anymore. He can help me."

Derek’s eyes got wide and spoke softly, understanding the implication of his previous question, "That's not what I was meaning. I was just making sure he'd be able to assist you during the day because I know he'll still have to be the sheriff even if his son has an injury."

"Oh." Stiles faltered. He didn't expect this new Derek to be sincere. He didn't expect him to know his father as anyone other than the man who completely abandoned him for a short time. "Well, I plan on going back to my alchemy training tomorrow."

Derek raised his eyebrows. His stupid judgmental eyebrows. "You need to make sure that one of these hunters don't see you limping. They'll be on to you and then you'll be dead. Especially since a wolf came to help you."

"Why were they even after me?"

Derek extended his hand to Stiles to help him off the ground and Stiles took it without hesitation, "Because of me."

*******************************************************

Derek was just as vague as Deaton when it came to giving Stiles an actual answer. But he was just so enthralled to be laying in his bed that he couldn't be bothered to care about Derek or about hunters trying to murder him.

The walk back to the Beacon was more painful than he originally thought it would be. He thought his leg would at least be able to support his weight for part of the way but he was wrong. Derek had to put his hand around his waist so he could help Stiles walk more often than not. Stiles was too ashamed to admit how his body fluttered every time he felt Derek’s hand right by his hip as he slung his own arm around Derek’s incredibly muscular and broad shoulders.   

He balled his fists and pressed them against his eyes so hard he saw white spots floating in the darkness of his eyelids. ' _Stop thinking those impure thoughts.'_

Instead, he thought about how terrible he felt when he walked through the door with Derek practically carrying him. He knew how it must have looked, he was late so he knew his father must have been concerned, he came in sweaty and pale from the pain in his leg, and a strange man holding him upright. His father leaped out of his chair and put his hand over his mouth at the sight of him. He hugged him so tight that the air left his body. His father shed a few tears when he showed him the wound, and made Stiles sit down so he could clean the wound himself. Then he got extremely angry when Stiles told him about what happened and swore he would violently kill the men who hurt him, he would maim them, and ruin their entire lineage.

His father turned to Derek and asked who he was and Stiles insides turned to water. Stiles could laugh at this whole situation but the pain in his calf was becoming more unbearable by the minute and laughing might take away more energy that he didn't have.

“My name is Derek. I knew Stiles when we were-”

His father took a step back from cleaning Stiles' wound and squinted his eyes at Derek, “You look exactly like your mother.”

Stiles and Derek both looked at his father,both wearing the same shocked expression, “You knew my mother?”

His father couldn't stop staring at him. He took a few steps closer and pulled him into a hug. Stiles couldn't help but stare at what was happening. Derek’s arms went across his shoulder and his father patted the back of his head very carefully.

His father pulled away from Derek, “You don’t remember me but I remember meeting you. I remember holding you as a little baby and having you scream all the air out of your body at me. Your mother just rolled her eyes and said that you were the most sensitive baby she had ever seen. I only got to see you a few times as a cub but I could never forget those weird colored eyes.”

Stiles stopped the memories and focused on the warmth and familiarity of his bed. But he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that his father knew Derek. His father knew Derek’s entire family. Another connection to Derek that he couldn't break when Derek would eventually leave again.

Stiles pressed his fists harder into his eyes.

His father told Derek he was welcome to check on Stiles while he was working during the day. He also said that he was more than welcome to come and stay whenever he wanted.

Stiles vehemently refused Derek’s assistance. But Derek and his father just stared at him with the same judgmental expression on their faces and Stiles had to back down.

He had no idea how much he wanted his father to hate Derek, but his father had no idea how much Derek meant to Stiles, he had no idea how much it hurt to lose him. Stiles didn't even realize how much he still meant to him even after all this time. He couldn't help but feel disgusted for even caring.

Stiles heard his father give a knock on the door frame and pulled his hands away from his eyes so he could see his father poke his head into his room, “Son, what’s wrong? Does your leg still hurt?”

Stiles sighed, “No, I’m fine.”

His father came into his room, “Do you want me to get you anything before I leave?”

“No, Father, I can get it myself. I’m really not that injured! The only reason I’m not going to Deaton’s today is because I’m tired.”

He saw his father frown, the creases on his cheeks looked deeper and angry. “Any injury you have on your body is a major injury to me. You need a few days of rest.”

Stiles didn’t want to argue. He just wanted to go to sleep and forget about all of this.

His father came closer and put his hand on Stiles’ forehead. “Please sleep.”

Stiles tried to give him the most sincere smile he could muster and rolled over to his side, so he could face the wall and not his father.

*****************************************************************

Stiles felt a hand on his leg where the wound was, it felt like ice running through the meat of his calf and he couldn't help but moan with relief when all the pain seemed to disappear.

He didn't want to open his eyes but he knew he had to and was greeted with the sight of Derek standing over him with his hand on his leg, black lines moving under his skin.

Stiles' voice was raspy, “I forgot you could do that.”

He couldn't see Derek’s face but he saw his cheeks rise and Stiles knew it was a smile, “You’re the one who taught me.”

Stiles didn't believe him, he didn't know he could teach him anything, “When?”

Derek looked up and glanced to the side, thinking to himself, “We were about 4 summer seasons old, I think, and your mom brought you to my mom so you could be healed and something inside of me changed. It was weird.”

Stiles tried to sound nonchalant, but he was preening, and trying to keep his nerves down, “What changed?”

Derek kept his hand on Stiles leg, even though there was no more pain. His voice low, “I felt you dying and I couldn't let that happen. It was like a switch went off and I knew I could save you and I had to save you.”

Stiles remembers that day, he was so sick and Derek wouldn't leave him alone. Stiles hit him and Derek bit him, but still healed his hand and stayed next to Stiles the rest of the day.

“I hit you.”

Derek shrugged, “You remember that? I bit you back so it was fair.” And then looked directly at Stiles to give him a low grin.

Stiles laughed, “You bastard. I felt so terrible after I hit you. My mother scolded me for so often after that happened. She’d keep mentioning that hitting is never allowed whenever I did anything. Even when I'd grab an apple from the bowl she'd say, 'you're not going to hit the apple, right?'" Stiles laughed at the memory."She had a really weird way of disciplining me.”

Derek's smile stayed on his face but removed his hand and Stiles adjusted his legs so Derek could sit on the edge of his bed.

Derek’s eyes crinkled in the corners, “I got in so much trouble for biting you. My mom kept telling me that you’d probably never be allowed to play with me again and I got so upset. I stayed as a wolf until the next time I was able to see you.”

Stiles hummed with delight, and realized that he was actually delighted that Derek was back. Then the reality hit him: He was back. “It’s so weird that you’re here.”

“I know.”

Stiles suddenly felt sick. Derek was back. Derek was sitting on his bed, helping him remember his child-years, hearing him talk about the shared memories that only he would be able to remember. Derek looked so beautiful and light, like the divines put light on earth just for him. He was delicate and ethereal and Stiles couldn't handle his emotions anymore. It hurt. Stiles steeled himself, and looked him directly in the eye, he wanted Derek to know that he was being sincere, “I fucking hate you.”

Derek kept the eye contact, sadness working its way into his features, “I hate myself, too.”

Stiles wasn't going to be the one to break the eye contact but he felt the tears swell in his eyes and he wasn't going to let Derek have this much power over him, so he conceded and looked down at his hands which were gripping his blanket tightly. He couldn't bear to look at him, he couldn't bear to look into his beautiful eyes, his fucking perfect face. He hated feeling this for Derek.

“I know you don’t want to really hear it, but I’m so sorry, Stiles.”

Derek was right, Stiles didn't want to hear this. He needed Derek to stop talking. He needed him to leave. He needed him to go back to wherever he came from. “Stop. It’s fine.” Stiles gave him a weak smile to get him to stop.

Derek stood up and awkwardly wiped his hands on his breeches, “I’ll get you some water. Would you like some sweet bread? Cora made you some.”

Stiles sat up and swung his legs to the edge, “I can get it. I need to stretch my muscles. They feel weak.”

“That’s probably from what was on the arrow. It was covered with something to make you sick.”

Stiles couldn't help the snideness from coming out of his mouth, “That’s really great. I'm so grateful that I got hit.” He stood up and felt his leg try to give way but Derek was there to pull him up by the waist and help him shuffle to the kitchen. Stiles very reluctantly gave Derek a pardon because he could have left him in the woods, he could have not come back today, he could have let Stiles walk to the kitchen himself, but here he was being attentive and apologetic.

Derek pulled a chair out from the table and swerved Stiles so he could sit, “Here. Sit.”

“Listen, Derek, I can take care of myself. It's okay.”

Derek just hummed to himself, indicating that Stiles needed to stop talking.

Stiles was panicking. He didn't need any help, he didn't need Derek taking care of him, and he definitely didn't want Derek to know how happy it made him to see him in his kitchen humming to himself while he assembled the food he brought in his knapsack on plate. He saw Derek move gracefully and arrange some meats, bread, and even some sweet dried fruit on a plate for him. His brain was still trying to process the fact that Derek was in his kitchen when he sat the plate down in front of Stiles and even felt his hand on the back of his neck.

He looked behind him to see Derek nodding for him to start eating.

Stiles just stared at the food in front of him and couldn't even believe it was real.

While Stiles stared at the food, Derek decided to just make conversation with himself, “Seeing you now is so weird. I look at you and assume you’re starving because you’re so skinny.” Stiles turned around to look at Derek, a neutral expression playing on his face, “You were a chubby kid so I just don’t really believe you are eating enough.”

Stiles regained some sense and stared at him indignantly, “That was my child fat! Everyone was chubby at that age.”

Derek laughed and took a seat at the table across from him. Derek making him food and sitting at his table was doing something to his brain. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Derek was in his house. Sitting at his table. All those years spent wishing and hoping for this exact scenario and it was happening. Here he was. He didn't feel like he was in his body anymore.

Derek placed both hands in front of him, resting on the table so he could lean forward against the solid wood, “Those hunters have been after me since they killed my mother. They knew that she had 3 children all close in age and have been looking for us ever since.”

Derek didn't seem phased by the fact that his mother was murdered. Stiles couldn't even think about his mother without crying.

“The hunters couldn't outright murder children, so they waited for the children in my age range to move away, get apprenticeships away from home, and then they could start searching for us.”

“How’d they know you were wolves.”

Derek’s face became solemn and Stiles instantly regretted the question. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay. My uncle was travelling to us and his daughter shifted in front of a girl and scared her. She didn't know better, she didn't know that humans were dangerous and she didn't know what to do when one saw her either. The girl went back to her town and told the elders, told everyone that would listen. The hunters heard her. They scoured the Hills and found him but he had taken his daughter somewhere safe.” Derek stopped talking and Stiles wanted to reach across the table to take his hand and comfort him but he didn't. “He came to tell us immediately so we could run. The hunters and the hounds had found us and we ran. My mom held them off for as long as she could.”

Stiles face fell, his heart hammering, and tears threatening to spill over, he was in awe of Derek. He thought of Derek as a coward, as an asshole, and every other terrible thing he could think of. Stiles never considered that Derek risked his life, his safety, just to tell Stiles that he was sorry and that he would miss him, “You came to see me.”

Derek nodded.

“Why would you do that.”

Derek’s voice was a whisper, “I couldn't let you think I’d ever chose to leave you alone.”

Stiles wiped the tear away before it fell. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize.”

“I have to, Derek. I have spent so many seasons hating you and now that I know what happened- I can’t help but hate myself.”

“It makes no difference now. Just as long as we can still be friends.” Derek looked like there was hope lighting his eyes.

“Yes, of course.”

The light in his eyes shined a little brighter.

************************************************************

Stiles was still sitting in the kitchen when his father came home. He looked winded and upset, which were two things he did not like seeing his father experience.

Stiles made a move to stand up and help him, “Are you okay, father?”

His father latched the door shut, locking it tight behind him. “Sit, son.”

Stiles was now afraid.

“Vernon Boyd is missing.”

“Our neighbor?”

“Yes.” His father sat down next to Stiles at the table and rubbed his head.

Stiles put a soothing hand on his shoulder, “Derek’s going to stop this.” He didn't know that for sure. He just wanted to reassure his father and give him a little bit of hope that this will end soon.

“I hope so. I’m so afraid for Scott’s return. I feel as if he’s safer away from the Hills.”

Stiles sucked in a breath, he completely forgot about Scott’s arrival home. He was suddenly extremely excited and dreadful for his return.

“I’ll bet Ms. McCall is vibrating with anticipation.”

His father shut his eyes and continued to rub his head, “She’s thinking about telling him to stay away until the murders stop, but she could never do that. He wants to be home just as much as she wants him home.”

“He needs to come home, father.”

His father laughed, “I’m debating on sending you away as well.”

Stiles didn't smile. He knew his father wouldn't dare but it still scared him.

“You have no idea what went through my head when you didn't come home that evening. You won’t be able to understand this fear until you have children of your own but- Stiles- I’m so afraid.”

Hearing his father say that he was actually afraid made something grow inside of him. He’d stop these people, these murderous villains. They drove his innocent best friend away when he was just a child, now they were scaring his father, and that wasn't acceptable, “They’re organized, but they’re stupid and weak with the thugs they've hired.”

“I need you to be even more careful now that there’s been an abduction in the Beacon. These people have reached the center of our home, son. You know that these hunters can’t be charged with anything unless they are caught in the act.”

Stiles was putting the dilemma together inside of his mind, “They must have ties to the elders...  So that they can’t be charged.”

His father nodded. “If this is the work of the hunters then they’re bound to mess up at some point.”

Stiles knew they wouldn't slip up. They operated like a machine and with the elder’s protection they would never be caught.

“They know you run with wolves now.”

“They don’t know that for certain.”

His father looked so worn down and beaten, these hunters were murdering innocent people for no reason and his father couldn't stop them, he couldn't do his job. His father put his hand over his own hands and let out a sigh. “Just please be careful, always be on guard, always be aware. I can’t stop you from going to work and leaving the house but I have to at least try.”

Stiles felt the nerves that boiled under his skin roar with a different energy. His runes tingled with power and he knew he was going to murder these hunters.

****************************

Stiles was awake before the sun rose in the sky and tried to make his way to the kitchen to make food for his father but his leg still wasn't cooperating with what he wanted. He noticed that there wasn't a lot of food to eat in the house and made a mental reminder to go to the square so he could browse the markets.

His father woke up a little later and told Stiles that he didn't want him to go to work today. Stiles only agreed because his leg still wasn't working right.

"It'll get better, right?"

His father shrugged, "I don't know, really. Sometimes once you hurt a muscle it doesn't work the way it did. Deaton or Ms. McCall might be able to examine it and tell you how to get it back to where it once was."

"What if it's never like it was?"

"It'll be fine."

"But if it isn't?"

"You learn to deal with it."

Stiles leaned back in his chair. He let out a dramatic huff of air and his father rolled his eyes.

He watched his father gather his food, water pouch, and scrolls off of the counter. "Make sure you rest today." Then patted his cheek and walked out the door.

The rune on his back buzzed. Stiles wanted to use it, he wanted an excuse to do alchemy and work it out a bit.

He wanted to move and be back to normal. He didn't want to be injured and lame. Tears almost leaked from his eyes because he was so restless.

_'Maybe Derek will stop in and make sure I'm okay.'_

He stopped that thought immediately.

He wouldn't allow himself to wish and want Derek. He wouldn't think of him at all. He'd been absent from his life this long, he wouldn't allow himself to yearn for this person he barely knew. He'd leave eventually and Stiles couldn't allow himself to get attached. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't lose him again.

Stiles decided that he would tend to the horses- that's a mundane enough task for him. The horses were probably his best friends during the time he wasn't studying alchemy and Scott was doing his apothecary training. He missed those giant, scary beasts.   

He hobbled out to the stables and went to pet the horses. They didn't really like him but he was okay with that. They ate some of the root vegetables he brought out for them right of his hands and trailed his fingers through the coarse hair on their mane.

Stiles felt peaceful standing with them but he knew his leg would tire soon after standing for too long so he limped back to the house and prayed for some type of relief from this.

When he approached his house he saw Deaton waiting outside of his door.

"Doctor Deaton, what brings you out here!"

Deaton sighed and slightly rolled his eyes, "You, Mr. Stilinski."

Stiles felt awkward, and really didn't know how to respond, "Well, here I am."

He opened the door and motioned for Deaton to follow him into the warmth of his house. He made sure not to limp too much, he wanted Deaton to think he was getting stronger and was almost healed.

The pain from using that leg and trying to show-off for Deaton was becoming a little too much. He rushed Deaton in the house as fast as he could so he could sit. When he finally pulled out the chair and plopped into it he had fought to contain a sigh of relief.

"I was stopping by to make sure you were still alive. And maybe practice some alchemy if you could handle it."

Stiles tried to silence the enthusiasm, "I would love to do some alchemy! I mean, my rune has been itching and buzzing so alchemy would be nice. Please."

Deaton smiled, "Spoken like a true alchemist."

Stiles remained neutral. He wasn't an alchemist and he knew it but he was doing his best.

"I really came by because I realized that you need some more protection now. You need to know how to defend yourself when attacked. I'm afraid I need to teach you some protection and defensive enchantments which are considered some of the darkest alchemy."

Stiles rolled his eyes and touched the rune on his arm, "I think I’m beyond being worried about the risk of dark alchemy. I’m certain that I can handle some protection and defensive enchantments."

Deaton was silent with a pensive look permeating his face. Stiles watched as he looked around his house, he watched him take in the kitchen and the books that lined the shelf above the wood-burning stove, "When you use a recipe to cook your meats, and vegetables you know what will happen to food, because you are forced to follow the directions exactly, right?"

He had no idea what Deaton was trying to imply, "Uhm, yes."

"What if you were expected to use a recipe for meat on food that was completely different?"

"The food wouldn't be good."

"Exactly.”

Stiles was so confused, but Deaton just sat back in the chair, looking at Stiles with this expression that meant Stiles should understand but Stiles couldn't understand at all,  “What do you mean by this?”

Deaton pointed to the recipe books, “Those are like the dark alchemy spells!” and then turned  to point to Stiles, “You are the food.”

Stiles just sat with a blank expression and absentmindedly rubbed his calf where the pain throbbed. He wanted to understand what Deaton meant.

“What I mean by this is that dark alchemy enchantments have different effects on different people. Just because I can cast a specific enchantment and have it work without disrupting my own body doesn't mean it’s the same for you.”

Stiles sat in the chair confused, the runes worked so why would this be any different, how could this change him, he was using alchemy without any trouble now.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“Then help me understand a little better.”

“When you went to help Mrs. Blake you saw that her lover had hurt her.”

Stiles flashed back to the soft and broken woman with burns that covered her entire body and couldn't stop the rage from bubbling to the surface of his mind, "Yes."

"Her lover was once one of the best alchemists in the world. She tried a few dark enchantments and the darkness overcame her."

"She was a woman?"

"Yes."

Stiles was instantly distracted and couldn't stop the questions. Two girls living together as lovers, it was unheard of, it was a sin. Part of his mind couldn't help but feel relief. There were others like him, others that could like men and women, "They were lovers?"

"I'm not here to give you a lecture on love, Mr. Stilinski. Love is love and you can't help who you are attracted to. Let's move on."

"I didn't mean-," and then he mentally pulled himself back, just because Deaton was okay with his type of sin didn't mean he wanted his apprentice admitting to the perverse thoughts, "I was just trying to satisfy some curiosity."

Deaton just hummed and narrowed his eyes, "She was a powerful woman, Stiles. She started using dark alchemy to help her while she hunt and it warped her mind."

"She hurt that poor woman."

"She did. She became a monster by the time the elders found her and hung her."

Stiles stared at his hands that were resting against the dark wood of his childhood dining table. He can remember his mother scolding him for climbing on the table right where Deaton sat staring at him. Derek sat in that seat yesterday and told him about his mother's murder. Stiles knew he had to try anything and everything to stop these monsters, even if it destroyed who he was.

He smiled at Deaton, "I'm not afraid of this. I know you're trying to scare me out of doing this but it's not going to work."

Deaton didn't return his smile. He just sat stoically with his back slumped against the hard wood of the chair. "I worry for you, Stiles. But I know this is something you'll have to learn if you want to be safe."

Stiles kind of wanted to reach out and touch Deaton on the hand but he knew that would be too intimate and inappropriate.

"I'll be fine. There's no need to worry."

Deaton shrugged his shoulders, "Let's get started then."

*************************************************

Deaton only taught him a protection and an invisibility enchantment because he was worried that it would overwhelm him and make the enchantments ineffective. When he tested them out, neither of them had an adverse effect on him. Before they got started with the training he made Deaton teach him something for his leg so he could walk normally again.  

Deaton gave him a rejuvenation enchantment that negated the paralyzing potion that was on the arrow. He said that the paralyzing potion was only going to work on the area it hit and until it was completely healed his leg wouldn't be able to cooperate with him because the poison lived inside of the wound. The rejuvenation enchantment was allowing his leg to function at his normal capacity and Stiles was thrilled.

But he didn't care about that, he could care less about alchemy right now. He looked down at the small rocks that crunched under his boots and tried to make his face stop smiling. His heart was pumping loudly, his blood fizzed under his skin and in his chest.

Once he passed the areas tree-line, he had to will himself from running to the solid oak door that looked weathered against the pale green of the house. It was a difficult feat but he managed.

When he was finally at the door he let his smile overtake his face. He couldn't help it any longer.

He pulled his fist up and knocked so loudly that his knuckles hurt.

The door opened and there he was: Scott McCall- his best friend.

He took in the sight of his best friend and drank it down like water in the heat. He looked broader and somehow taller. His face was clear of blemishes, his hair was long enough to be tied up, and he looked like a man. Not like his scrawny and nervous friend that left all those seasons ago.

“Stiles?”

“Scott!” and leaped up to hug his best friend.

Stiles arms came around his neck and his head rested on his shoulder. He felt Scott stiffen underneath his embrace and gave Stiles a pat of recognition on his back.

Stiles withdrew and looked at his friend who was obviously upset about something. He saw something flicker in his friends eyes and backed away from him.

“I have to go Stiles. I haven’t been home for very long and I want to spend time with my mother.”

Stiles intrinsically knew he was fighting something down, he wasn’t telling him something extremely important. It frightened him, “Scott? Are you okay?”

Scott’s head snapped up and he looked at Stiles with a new kind of emotion splotched across his face, “Yes, now go home.” And then stepped back to slam the door shut.

Stiles heard the lock slide into place from the other side of the door and felt sick.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a weird filler chapter but it was bugging me and I needed to just finish it. I thought I'd do more during spring break but friends, family and SXSW happened and I just needed to get this part over with so I could get to the better and more exciting things :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some cute shit happens in this chapter just btw. I bumped up the rating because I have no idea what constitutes a work to be labeled 'teen and up' and something happens that might be a little more mature than teen.

It had been seven nights since Scott had slammed the door in his face and he still couldn't quell the feeling of sickness from rolling around in his stomach. He woke up with stomach pains and went to sleep with the exact same stomach pains burning through the insides of his body and he was so tired of feeling this way.

He had no idea why Scott would be so angry with him and had no idea what he could have done to cause this anger. He was going to go back to Scott's and confront him. He couldn't just sit idly by while Scott held anger towards him. He wanted to apologize or try to explain his mistake and make amends. He couldn't stand the thought of his best friend hating him.

The walk wasn’t as fun or as light hearted as it was the last time he made this trek. He didn't have to force down a smile or stop himself from skipping to the door and when he raised his fist to knock on the solid wood door, his heart didn't flutter. It actually hurt to think that this was what had become of his friendship in only a few short sentences.

When Scott finally came to the door, he hesitated by the frame and only pulled the door open to reveal his face, he was not letting Stiles in. There was sadness smudged in the corners of his eyes and held a frown that looked so out of place on his normally bright face, "Stiles, please go home."

He knew he had to say his peace as directly as possible or Scott would slam the door in his face again. He was so desperate for Scott to forgive him, his words were pleads rolling off of his tongue, "Scott, I'm sorry for what I did. I just want us to be friends again. I've missed you while you've been away."

Scott sighed and pulled the door open so he could step out on his porch, pulling the door shut behind him. He gave Stiles a quick pat on the back and guided him to sit down on the front step with him. Scott kept a distance from him and there was a self-consciousness that settled on his shoulders, but at least a little bit of a smile came back to his crooked jaw and Stiles felt better.

Scott squeezed his calves and twitched his fingers on the fabric of his breeches, "I'm not mad at you. You've done nothing wrong."

He tried to face Scott but he turned away from him, insistent on keeping Stiles at a distance, "Then what's wrong? What happened while you were away?"

"Nothing, Stiles. I feel like we've just grown apart."

The air left his body like Scott had punched him in the chest, he stuttered to find the words he wanted to say. "You can't mean that."

Scott still refused to look him in the eye but his voice grew low and soft like he was on the verge of crying, "No, I don't mean that at all."

"Then why are you saying these awful things to me?"

"I- I just can't tell you."

"Yes, you can. You can always tell me. Scott, I’m your best friend,” Then he had to whisper in order to keep himself from crying, “I’m your brother."

His heart broke at the thought of Scott being alone in a time of need. Scott was always the first to defend Stiles and to help him out of any stressful situations. Scott always knew when Stiles nerves were swelling, when his  body started shaking and he couldn't control the habits that moved through him. Scott was always there to calm him down, to hold him tight and make him feel like he wasn't alone no matter what. He just wanted to know what was wrong with his best friend, he could probably make the situation better if he knew what was wrong.

Scott was still turned away from him and he couldn't help reaching out and touching his best friend's neck. He wanted to comfort him, that's all he wanted, take away some of his worries- some of his pain. He gripped his neck and gave it a light squeeze. And when Scott turned to look at him he saw that his eyes had turned an unnatural gold.

Stiles fell back on his hands, fingers scraping against the hardwood of the porch to pull him away. Scott jumped backwards from him. "I'm so sorry, Stiles."

The bottom of his breeches tore against the splinters that stuck out of the beams on the porch.  He felt the blood drip from the ends of his fingers where he dug too hard into the wood and his nails pinched the delicate flesh. "Wha- what's happened?"

Scott's face had transformed in only a few beats. He had fur dusting his cheeks and brow. Teeth that pointed and claws that extended from his fingernails. Scott looked down at the ground, he looked so ashamed of himself, "I was bit in the woods one night after training and-."

Stiles could see the tears threatening to spill out from his distorted eyes, "I'm a monster. We can't be friends anymore because I can't control this. I can't be around you!"

Stiles stood and wiped the few drops of blood onto his pants, and slowly approached his best friend. He was hesitant but he put his shaking arms around his best friend’s shoulders. He wasn't afraid of him, he would never be afraid of him, this was Scott. His delicate, always smiling, beautifully imperfect Scott. "I'm not afraid. I know you won't hurt me."

Scott shrugged off his touch but kept his eyes on the ground, his shoulders shaking as tried to take a deep breath in, "Yes, I will, Stiles. I love you too much and I can't ever risk hurting you so you need to leave." He couldn't help but notice his hands were shaking violently.

Stiles looked at Scott and saw an uncanny resemblance to Derek while his face was transformed. The wheels in his brain started moving, he transformed, he wasn't a full wolf like Derek was, but he was a wolf. Maybe Derek could help him, teach him how to live normally again and to not be afraid of hurting him. "No, Scott, I think I know someone with this similar affliction. He could help you."

Scott stopped trembling. Stiles glanced at his hands to see the claws retract back into his fingers and the hair on his face disappeared. Rage filled his voice as he whispered, "You knew about this?"

He didn't expect that to be Scott’s initial question or his initial reaction, "No- I mean- yes, but not really."

"You actually knew that things like this existed in the world- no- you know someone that actually has this terrible affliction and you never mentioned this to me?" Scott looked so hurt, "In all the seasons we've known each other. You never told me that you knew someone with this."

Stiles wanted to plead with Scott but he could tell that he was hurt by his knowledge and was getting angrier the more he stalled, "Scott, please, I can explain."

Scott walked up the stairs and he trailed behind him, grasping at his arm for him to stop and listen, "Please, Scott. Please."

He opened his door, "I don't want to hear your pathetic explanation." And slammed the door in his face again.

*********************************

The day after Scott McCall slammed the door in his face he went back to work in Deaton’s office and hoped that he couldn’t tell how distraught he was. Deaton’s mind was occupied anyway, he told him that he had to go to Wren to do some alchemy for a few of the farmers so Stiles wouldn’t be needed back in his office for almost four days. Deaton was specific about what he needed to do during those four days, of course, he told him that he needed to use his runes and think of an intricate design for the quartz. Stiles knew he probably wouldn't do any of that. He’d just go straight to his bed and sleep as much as possible.

It had been two whole days and he hadn't moved from his bed except to relieve himself and to eat what little food his father forced him to eat.

He had told his father what happened at Scott's house and his father couldn't really do anything to console him or give him any real advice because he’d never experienced anything like this.  His father said he had no right to tell him anything when they were younger and Scott couldn't be mad at him for that. They were children and it wasn't his secret and Scott had no right to be mad at him.

He also told Stiles that he would love Scott no matter what was wrong with him. He was like a son to him whether he turned into a wolf or not.

So, Stiles laid in bed and wished to fade into nothingness, to forget about everything that plagued his waking moments. This had happened too many times already. Losing people seemed to be Stiles curse and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He lost his mom, and briefly lost his father. Then he had to lose Derek, who miraculously came back, and now he was losing Scott. He wanted this to stop his wanted this rib-aching pain to stop.

After a while he went numb and couldn't feel anything anymore. He was okay with that. He didn't want to talk anymore, he didn't want to move. He had even taught himself to fall asleep anytime the thoughts became too overwhelming.

The bed was comfortable and warm and it made him feel somewhat better so he stayed there.

Just as he was drifting off into a somewhat restless sleep, he heard his front door open and shut. His father never told him he’d be getting off early but he couldn't even tell if it was day or night so he wasn't too worried about it.  

Soft footsteps padded their way down to his room and he shut his eyes and pulled the blanket over his head so his father would assume he was sleeping and would leave him alone. Instead the footsteps traveled into his room and stopped right next to his bed.

Suddenly, there was a giant weight on top of him, squeezing the air out of his body. The blanket was stuck over his head so he couldn't see his assailant and instantly felt a rune surfacing at the edge of his fingertips.

A cheerful voice echoed through his cold and empty room, “Why do you smell so sad?”

Relief washed over him at the sound of his voice, “Nice to see you, too, Derek.”

Derek shifted from sitting on his stomach to laying down next to him. Stiles shifted the blanket down so he could see him. His voice remained monotone, “What brings you all the way up to the Beacon?”

Derek scoffed, settled down into the bed, and lightly punched Stiles shoulder, “You, sheep's- brain.”

Stiles felt incredibly aware of how close Derek was to him and it was making his nerves swell with a different sort of energy. He didn't want to get too close to him but Derek was behaving like this was the most normal thing he’d ever done. He definitely didn't want to touch him and give him the wrong idea. So, he tried to pull all of his limbs back to himself so there’d be no risk of touching, no risk of arousal, no risk of anything. The more he inched away from him, the more space Derek took. He looked at Derek who was taking up his space, maneuvering his body and flopping around. It made Stiles want to smile even though it was wrong.

Stiles couldn't help but want to reach out and touch him, he couldn't help wanting to be held by him. He knew that he shouldn't have those terrible and impure thoughts rolling through his mind. So he pulled himself into a tight ball. _Derek shouldn't be here in the first place._

Derek’s face got tight and his eyebrows knit together across his forehead, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Stiles, I could smell your sadness from across the stream.”

“Well, we could talk about how odd it is that you can smell my emotions.”

Derek’s eyebrows finally relaxed, amusement returning to his face, “I can smell almost everyone’s emotions.”

Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes but he had to focus on shifting away from Derek’s arm that had snaked under his pillow to rest underneath his head.

A smile spread across his face, “You are so restless, just lay still.”

He stopped moving and let Derek shift around. They weren’t touching but it just felt too intimate for his liking. The only person he’s ever laid in bed with was his father and mother. That was how it was suppose to be until after the marriage ceremony. You could only sleep in a bed with your parents until you were married and then you went to your new home and had a lot of sex with your wife. In his defense, nobody followed those rules anyway.

“Now tell me why you’re upset.”

“My best friend is mad at me for something I never told him.”

“That’s-”

“It’s not like I purposefully kept anything from him in the first place. The topic never came up! It’s not like it was my secret to tell! Oh, and I’m terrified of being attacked while running errands for Deaton since that has become a likely possibility.”

“Stil-”

He was getting upset starting to get upset. “And I’m not an alchemist, no matter what anyone thinks, I’m not an alchemist! My brain doesn't work right most days and I can’t stop it. I can’t stop from thinking all these bad thoughts.”

After being interrupted from expressing his own thoughts, Derek calmly interjected, “Your brain is fine.”

Stiles sighed. He would not allow himself to get upset in front of Derek, “No, it isn't.”

Derek poked him in the ribs and Stiles flinched and made to cover his side from another attack, and as soon as he moved to cover, Derek poked the other side of his ribs and Stiles flailed. _What has gotten into this overgrown man-baby?_

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Stiles Stilinski.”

Hearing his name in his mouth did something to his heart. But he was forced to curl himself into a tight ball while Derek kept poking his ribs relentlessly. He fought back the laughter that threatened to burst at any moment. Derek’s smile was so bright it made his ears turn pink. The exertion of assaulting Stiles’ ribs was making a dewy sheen spread across his forehead and a flush of pink brush the tops of his cheeks. Finally, he stopped and went back to laying right next to Stiles, breathless and still laughing.

When he finally caught his breath he asked, “Who’s your best friend and why is he mad at you?”

Stiles poked his head up from where he was still trying to curl into a ball in case Derek wanted to continue his attack. “His name is Scott McCall. Lady McCall use to assist with my mother’s apothecary sometimes, I think you've met her.”

Derek pondered that for a moment, “I probably have. I just don’t remember.”

So Stiles continued on, “Scott was doing his apothecary training outside of the Hills and got bit by something.”

Derek stiffened next to him, “By what?”

“He doesn't know.” He paused for a moment, “but he showed me what he can transform into.”

“Stiles, tell me what happens to him.”

Stiles was a little nervous about telling him all of a sudden, he was now worried for Scott’s safety because if this upset Derek this much then it must be terrible. “He sprouts hair out of his face rapidly, he grows claws, and then his teeth lengthen and turn sharp.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Stiles wanted to shake Derek, but refrained due to their extraordinarily close proximity, “What does it mean, please tell me Scott won’t die!”

“No, he won’t die as long as the hunters don’t find out about what’s happened to him.”

Stiles heart rate picked up, “He needs help and I told him that I knew someone with a similar affliction and that maybe he could help and he got so angry with me, he slammed the door in my face.”

Derek put a hand on his shoulder, “Calm yourself, Stiles.”

“You don’t understand! He’s leaving me! Everyone leaves and I’m forced to endure.”

“That’s not true.”

He couldn't help his train of thought from escaping his mouth, “Yes, I’m trying my best to be this alchemist that everyone thought I was suppose to be and I've known that I’ll never be good enough and now my father and Deaton are starting to realize that I am terrible at it.”

Stiles sat up so he wouldn't be laying next to Derek. He need to run, he needed to get away from him. Derek would never want to be friends with him if he knew how bad his mind worked. Derek didn't need to understand how messed up his mind was.

He kept a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “Stiles, don’t leave.”

“Just let me go.”

He got up to kick the blankets away from his feet so he could leave but just as he pushed himself off the bed he felt strong arms grasp his waist.

“Stop it!”

He was pulled against Derek with such a force that it hurt his neck. He tried wiggling away but it wouldn't work, he was too strong.

“You’re just like a wolf. You try to run away whenever your nerves swell and that’s not okay.”

“You don’t know anything about my nerves.”

“Yes I do. Your mother used to have to hold you to calm you all the time.”

Stiles kept moving and trying his hardest to wiggle away but he couldn't, he was stuck against Derek, “Fuck you.”

“Stop, Stiles.” Then he let his voice go light almost in a soothing way, “My mother actually taught your mother this.” Stiles head smashed against Derek’s mouth and he thought that Derek would relent but he just tightened his grip, he needed to get away. “The pressure of restraint makes you more docile. It’s the same with wolves when we are pups.”

He could feel Derek’s scruffy face tickling the back of his neck. After thrashing for a few more minutes he gave up his fight. He thought he only had these episodes after his mother died but from what Derek admitted to him it seems he's had this issue his whole life. Derek still held him tightly against his chest and whispered in his ear, “For wolves, since we can hear each other’s hearts, it’s always comforting to hear a steady heartbeat whenever we’d get upset. For humans, feeling the heartbeat always worked best.”

Stiles gave up on talking and stared at the wall on the opposite side of his room. There was no use in talking anymore. He had Derek pressed behind him, clutching at him with such a forced that it hurt to breathe, and now Derek knew there was still something wrong with him. He hated himself. He let his mind wander away from his own body. He just wanted to escape.

Derek laid him down on his side with his arms still wrapped around his waist, tightly. “I’ll help him, you know. If he wants my help.”

Stiles wanted to say thank you but he didn't have the energy.

“He can join my sisters and I as a pack if it’ll help him more.”

Stiles moved his head to show that he understood. Then he felt the gentle pull of sleep pull him under, his eyelids hung heavy and he couldn't fight against the insistence of sleep any longer.

*****************************

He woke up to Derek still holding him tightly and laying right behind him.

Stiles shifted so he could roll over and look at him. Derek yawned and scrunched up his face and covered his eyes with his hands. Stiles wanted nothing more than to pull his hands away and kiss his nose. But he knew that wasn't an appropriate thought, especially after Derek held him and calmed him after a wave of panic.

“Do you feel better?”

“It’s always a nice feeling whenever someone sees how your brain works.”

Derek punched his shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with you, sheep's-brain.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, and then sat up.

Derek mimicked his action and sat up as well. “I better get home. I’m sure Cora is bored.”

“Will I see you again?”

Confusion floated across his face. “What do you mean?”

Stiles bit his lip, “I keep thinking you’re going to leave again and not come back again.”

“I’m not leaving. I promise.”

Stiles watched as Derek twirled his hands in his lap and seemed nervous about something. “Will you close your eyes?”

It was such a change of conversation and Derek looked so cute with his hands in his lap and his pleading eyes searching Stiles’ own. He had no idea what he was wanting from him but how could he ever deny him something so basic, “Sure.”

Stiles closed his eyes and felt the weight of his bed shift towards the middle of the bed where he sat.

Calloused hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing both of his cheekbones at the same time. He felt the skin on his chest flush. No. This couldn't possibly be happening to him.

Then, there was a warm and tentative pressure of lips on his and he felt like floating. _Please let this be real._

The hair on Derek’s upper lips tickled Stiles mouth. Derek wasn't moving his lips, he was just holding his mouth steady against Stiles’. So, he took a little bit of control and applied more pressure, opening his mouth a little and shifting slightly so he could kiss Derek’s bottom lip, not wanting to overwhelm him. He put his hands on his face and brushed the stubbly hair that lined his cheeks.

Derek slowly pulled away and the pressure on his mouth was gone. _He wanted to do that again, he wanted to kiss him again! Why was he stopping?_ He opened his eyes to see Derek staring at him, his eyes looked like they were glowing, he looked so happy, “Bye, Stiles."

Stiles watched Derek get off his bed and walk out of his bedroom, he heard the front door open and shut and he knew he had left.

He brought his hand up to touch his lips where Derek had just kissed them and couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face.

********************************************  


Stiles told his father that he wasn't going to apologize to Scott for not telling him about the wolves but he'd apologize for not being able to say anything.

His father looked at him and clapped him on the back, "That's good, son."

"Do you think he'll forgive me?"

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Stiles. I don't want Scott McCall guilting you into thinking that you're the bad guy in this situation, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

His father drank his tea, "I'm really reluctant about you even going back there. All this boy has done is cause you grief ever since he's been home."

“He’s dealing with some big issues.”

“And I understand that and sympathize with him completely but I refuse to allow him to hurt you anymore.”

Stiles sat down at the table with his father, “Derek came by yesterday.”

“Oh, so that’s why you feel better today.”

Stiles fought down the blush that threatened to overtake his entire face. It’s not like his father would even guess about the kiss, it’s not like he could tell or anything. “I actually had one of my, you know, nerve issues while he was here.”

His father set his tea down and grabbed his hand, “Stiles, I’m so sorry. I should have stayed home, I knew one was coming but I still went to work and I’m so sorry.”

“No, that’s okay. Derek knew exactly what to do, actually. He said I had them even when I was little.”

His father nodded. “His mother was the one to teach your mother. She said it was mainly for any of the human children who were born into her pack but that sometimes the pups needed it. She said that the human children would feel this swell of panic whenever they felt separated and the panic would overtake everything and they felt a need to get away to calm themselves.”

“She was the first one to use it on you, too. You were about 2 cold-seasons into life and you had your first wave of panic and she transformed into a human so she could hold you even though you fought and hit her the entire time. When it was over you were back to your normal self and your mother knew how to handle it if it ever happened again.”  

His father’s eyes grew soft and Stiles couldn't help but let the fondness over take his thoughts. When he was little he would always ask if he would be the sheriff someday and his father would reply that Stiles could do whatever he wanted. He always encouraged Stiles to be himself down to the bottom of his soul. His father was his biggest protector and his biggest encourager and he loved his father more than anything in the world. He didn't like being mentally absent, he missed talking to his father and being silly with him.

“So, when do you think you’ll head out to the McCall’s?”

“Probably a little after you leave.” Then coughed and tried to give his best fake-sincere voice, “I want the sun to be high in the sky before I go anywhere.” Then gave a giant fake smile and even batted his eyelashes.

His father stood up and laughed then flicked his on the side of his head, “Quit trying to make me feel like you listen to all of my warnings.”

His father knew him too well.

Since he was feeling better he decided to go see the horses.

The horses galloped up to the side of the fence at the sight of Stiles. They knew he had root vegetables for them so they acted pleasant towards him. The smell of hay and grains pulled him away from thoughts of Scott and back to Derek. His Derek. Was this really his Derek? Derek who kissed him on the mouth. Which he still couldn't believe actually happened.

He filled the horses water trough with water and looked at the grain supply so he could remember to order their grains. He knew that the planting season was upon them and he needed to tell his father this. They needed to get their seeds into the earth quickly. And the horses were going to be needed to plow the field and he wondered where the bridle was seen last. _Oh, well. We’ll just starve during the next winter season._

Walking back up to his house he saw a familiar person peering into his front window.

“I think peeping through windows is illegal, Scott.”

Scott broke into a run and slammed into Stiles, his arms squeezing him tightly in an embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

Stiles was stunned but accepted the embrace and hugged him back, “It’s okay, Scott.”

“I treated you poorly and you’re still so forgiving of me.”

“No, I understand.”

Scott tightened his embrace, “I don’t want you to think I dislike you or think that I’m mad. You’re my brother and I’m so sorry for treating you poorly. I’m just so afraid of hurting you.”

Stiles just kept patting his back and tried to rub soothing circles on his back, “Scotty, you’ll always have me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Stiles pulled away from Scott, “No more apologizing. Let’s go inside and drink something.”

Scott gave his crooked smile and shuffled him inside.

Stiles went to the wood-stove and put some water on top of the grate so it could boil.

Scott scraped the legs of the chair against the hardwood floor as he pulled himself against the table, “You have no idea how much I've missed you.”

“Scotty, I have missed you more. You’re an apothecary now!”

“You’re an alchemist!”

Stiles turned around and saw Scott grinning, “You’re in a better mood.”

Scott rubbed the back of his neck and became embarrassed, “I realized that I can control this affliction a little better than I thought.”

“How?”

“Allison.”

“Wait, who is Allison? Why is he or she helping you with this?”

Stiles watched as Scott’s eyes got all sleepy and a warm smile spread across his face, “She’s lovely. She lived next to the apothecary training houses and would bring me fresh cheese. Stiles, she’s so wonderful.”

Stiles poured the water into the mugs and brought them over to the table without spilling while he listened to Scott explain all of the other ways that Allison was amazing.

Of course, Scott found the prettiest girl and fell madly in love, Scott was so romantic it was gross. “So, she wasn't doing the apothecary training?”

“No, she lived with her father. Her father was actually excommunicated from the Hills because he didn't want to be a hunter anymore.”

“What?”

“Yes, she said that their weird hunting rules got her mother killed. Her father wanted nothing to do with it and left.”

“Scott, what’s her last name.”

“Argent.”

Stiles knew it, he knew that the elders had ties to the hunters, “Related to Gerard Argent, the elder?”

“Yes. Stiles, he controls the hunters.”

Stiles had no idea that his best friend had become such a wealth of information. He knew all the answers to the questions that he and his father had been searching for. But Scott being with an Argent was not good for his longevity.

“What happens if Allison finds out about what you've become.”

“She actually knows.”

Stiles couldn't believe that his best friend was willingly prepared to die, “Scott, that is so dangerous.”

“Stiles, she’s not going to parade me around to her father. Even if he did find out, he wouldn't sell me to Gerard.”

“I just worry for you.”

Scott laughed, “You worry for me? I worry for you! You were actually attacked by some hunters that were going to murder you for no reason.”

Then, Scott got quiet. Realization spreading through the dark corners of his mind, “It’s the hunters that have been murdering all the people, isn't it? Not a wolf, or a monster like they've been telling people.”

He couldn't keep it from Scott especially if he was courting the enemy, “Yes.”

Then he pulled down his tunic to reveal his rune, “The hunters didn't know this but.. You’re not the only one with supernatural powers, you know.”

Scott gasped and extended his hand to touch it, “This is the coolest thing I've ever seen.”

“Thanks.”

He loved the familiarity and the laziness of hanging out with Scott and just being in his presence. There were no boundaries, there were no rules, they could just do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted.

But there was a new element to the friendship, there was the fact that they were now toeing the line of being outlaws.

Scott pushed up out of his chair, “I actually have to go see the apothecary in Soren. I just wanted to stop by and apologize for being a shit.”

“I understand.”

“Can I stop by when I come back?”

“Of course. How long are you staying in Soren?

“Only 3 nights, my mom was so mad that I had to travel again, especially with all the murders, but that’s how life works.”

He let out a laugh, “Oh, I understand that completely.”

Then, shuffled his feet, he suddenly felt feeling awkward, “Oh and my friend said you can be part of his pack if you want.”

Scott shrugged, in a noncommittal way, “I’m not too sure I want that. Maybe some day.”

Then he walked out the door, half way out he called back out to him, “Oh, my mother said you need to come over because she has more tunics for you. She says that you’re filthy.” Then he gave Stiles a wink and ran out the door.

Stiles knew his best friend was an ass.

***********************************************

"How was work?"

Stiles sighed, "It was fine, Deaton is ready to turn the Quartz into a rune."

His father pondered his last comment, "If you aren't ready for that, then tell him! I'm sure it's okay."

"It's not that I'm not ready. I just-", he had to stop himself. He didn't know what he was really feeling. He just didn't feel right about it.

"It's okay. I'm sure there's no rush."

"Well, there is. The Quartz is the most powerful and Deaton wants me to have it on my body so it'll be easier for me to protect and defend myself."

His father put down his scroll, "If you have apprehensions then it should wait."

"I know, you're right."

His father perked up, like he remembered something, "I saw Derek today!"

Stiles tried not to flush. He willed his body to calm down. He couldn't start panting just at the thought of Derek, so he tried to be nonchalant about him, "Oh."

"He's coming over for dinner."

Stiles had to grit his teeth a little, "That's going to be fun."

He was going to have to relieve the pressure in his cock before he embarrassed himself in front of his father and Derek.

"I'm-uh- going to go feed the horses and when I'm done I'll come back and cook something."

His father raised his eyebrow like he was suspicious of him, "Okay."

Then he walked outside as quickly as he could and headed straight for the barn.

The barn was his source of solitude and silence. The horses were usually quiet and his father rarely came in it because it was Stiles' duty to care for the horses. He spent a lot of time in the barn touching himself when he was growing into manhood but eventually he stopped going so frequently. But this was becoming an insistent problem that he couldn't just will to stop. It was like he was a young man all over again. Getting hard at the thought of someone. He use to feel ashamed about needing to touch himself but his father had awkwardly told him that 'It was part of life and denying yourself that pleasure is not a good way to live.' And then he couldn't look his father in the eye for a long time.

When he stepped into the barn he heard the horses start whining for him to give them some food. He ran to get them their oats from the storage bins. The faster he could get them occupied with food, the faster he could take care of his issue.

Finally, he was able to drop his breeches and stroke himself. He had his forehead pressed against the barn wall leveraging himself with one hand and holding himself with the other. He was so hard that the head was bright red and leaking. It didn't take long to finish and he fell on the hay panting.

'Shit.' And he instantly felt the relief wash over him. The pressure in his balls and in his mind was gone. He could now go back into his house and face his father and Derek without feeling like he was going to explode.

****************************

Stiles heard his father greet Derek outside while he prepared the meat and the potatoes inside the kitchen. Stiles felt his heart beat spike when he heard Derek’s voice rumble through the walls and into his bones.

Their soft muffled voices lifted a weight that was hanging heavy in his heart. He didn't want to consider the details of why he felt better but all he knew was that he did.

The door opened with bang and his father muttering apologies.

Stiles was going to stay focused on the food until his attention was demanded. He couldn't appear too eager or else he’d look like a fool.

“Stiles, greet our guest!”

He looked up from the potatoes and gave Derek a slight nod and Derek returned it with a bashful glance.

Stiles didn't like taking notice of people, when he noticed too much it meant he felt too much for that person, so he always kept the details of people on the surface. Noticing the little freckles under Derek’s eyes or the way his eyes got more illuminated when people listened to him speak was not a good sign for Stiles.  

“I’m sorry that my son doesn't have manners, Derek. But please,” and shot Stiles a glare, “sit down and try to enjoy yourself in our home.”

Derek stood by the doorway, playing with the splintered wood on the edge of the frame, “I was actually wondering if I could see the horses. Horses- they uh- don’t really like me.”

Stiles heard his father chuckle, “Stiles go show Derek the horses. Make them like him”

Stiles put the knife down and shot his father a quizzical look, “They don’t even like me!”

Derek turned from Stiles and walked towards the barn. When they finally made it inside Derek turned away from him.

“I really just wanted to say sorry for the other day.”

Stiles stopped, the blood rushing from his face and draining from his heart, “Why?”

Derek’s hand scraped his through his hair making his arms flex and his tunic rise, revealing the soft tuft of stomach hair peeking through, “I didn't- I just- I’m sure you have a lady you’re courting and it was- it was completely inappropriate of me.” He was turning a shade of red that mimicked the cherries he picked from the tree outside of the Boyd's yard as a child.

“Are you ashamed of what happened?”

Derek looked to the floor, “I just- I shouldn't have done that. I had never done it before-,” Derek’s speech became warped and he stuttered over every word, the accent he had became thicker as he stumbled on his speech.

He was too stunned to speak, he felt that his voice was thick with emotion but he wanted to remain neutral. But the smile crept up to mouth anyway, “I was your first kiss?”

Derek faced the horses, unwilling to even look at him anymore.

“Don’t be embarrassed by that.”

“I’m not ashamed of what happened but I know it was completely inappropriate.”

Now, it was Stiles’ turn to feel shy. He didn't want to feel shy in front of Derek, he wanted to be bold, take risks, and be playful, like when they were little children. This was a Derek he still didn't know and still couldn't figure out. He wanted to impress this Derek, show him he wasn't a baby or the poor little boy he once knew. Even now, the only reason Derek kissed him was because something was wrong with his brain.

He walked slowly through the hay that lightly crunched under the heel of his boot to where Derek had turned to face the horses.

Stiles had to pause to watch the horses hesitate around Derek. They wouldn't come close to him and he found it hilarious.

As soon as he was behind Derek he could see his spine stiffen. His hand circled around Derek’s wrist and pulled him towards his chest but he still refused to look at him. “I love how the horses are afraid of you.” Then he felt Derek relax a little.

Derek’s hand moved and against Stiles’ palm and rested there, “Why is that?”

“Because I am so afraid of those gigantic beasts!”

Derek finally laughed, and faced him, eyelashes catching on the light that hung low in the barn, “I’m sorry for this. For making everything-,”

Stiles squeezed his hand, “Stop.”

When Derek stared at Stiles, he knew, and all he had to do was lean forward. So he did it.

He felt the stubble against his lip, the soft and hesitant lips against his and then he pulled away. “I just want you to know that I liked that you kissed me. It was one of the only things that made me smile that day.”

The light shone behind Derek’s head and illuminated his face. He squeezed his hand once more and laughed, “Let’s go back inside.”

***************************

Stiles father was picking the plates off the table, “Father, let me get these plates.”

Derek got up, “No, you both provided me with dinner! So, let me clear the table.”

His father smacked both of them down and ruffled Stiles’ hair. “Stop it, both of you. I will clear the table.”

His father was putting the used plates on the shelf to be washed in the water. “Derek, how are your sisters?”

Stiles eyes traveled over Derek who bowed his head and started picking at a callous on his hand, “Cora is well, she’s finishing up arithmetic and Laura is busy building a pack.”

“I didn't know your older sister’s name was Laura.”

He kept watching Derek, lips quirking at the mention of Laura,“Yeah, she does not like the idea of being known.”

His father let out a huff of laughter from the kitchen, “Your sister was very wary of us. I mean, she had every reason to be wary of us but she never willingly wanted to be with humans.”

“No, she doesn't like humans. She liked Stiles and Claudia, but no one else. Even now.”

Stiles hadn't heard his mother’s name spoken out loud in so long it was almost considered taboo. He watched his father’s eyes sweep over Derek like he had said something sacred.

“She told me about why Laura was so completely hesitant of us.”

Derek nodded, “She never really forgave my mother for it, even though it was what wolves did. It was one of our traditional repayments.”

Stiles was confused and he didn't know what they were talking about, “Why was Laura mad at your mom?”

Derek cleared his throat, “Oh, um-”, and then faltered. “I only know why she was mad at her. I actually don’t know why my mother did it.”

His father sat back down, “Do you want to hear it?”

They both looked at him and said “Yes!”, at the exact same time and then pointed at each other and laughed.  

“It’s not a pleasant story,” and then looked at Derek.

Derek just shrugged his shoulders.

“So, when Claudia was becoming an apothecary, we had just fallen in love with each other- mind you.” Stiles rolled his eyes, “And she was travelling to Liften when she saw a young woman lying on the ground hurt.” He paused, “Then the woman transformed into a wolf but-,” he could see his father struggling to find the words, “she couldn't hold the wolf form, if that makes any sense.”

Derek nodded.

“Well, Claudia just stayed with her even though she kept transforming over and over. Finally, she used some herbs and some medicines to calm her down. Claudia stayed with her and made sure she was getting better.”

Derek spoke, “My mother use to say that they instantly became friends.”

His father nodded to him, “They did. After that meeting your mother would come check on my wife and make sure she was okay, make sure she was always taken care of and protected.”

He was still confused as to why Laura would be angry, “What happened to make Laura so unforgiving?”

Then Derek spoke, “As tradition states, when a wolf is helped by a human and that human is trustworthy, they must offer up their first born to that human. So, when Laura was born my Mother came as a wolf and brought Laura to your mom.”

Stiles looked to his father who just nodded along, “When my wife told me this she was so upset. She thought your mom was bringing her to show how beautiful and perfect she was. But when my wife picked her up and your mother started walking away, Claudia panicked and called her back in tears, trying to figure out what was wrong.”

Stiles mouth just hung open.

“Your mother finally turned back into a human and explained the tradition and my wife immediately said there was no way she’d take her baby, even though Laura was a beautiful baby.”

“Did you know about the wolves before you met your wife?”

“Not at all. She told me that if she couldn't accept that some people were different then she couldn't marry me. She also knew that I was trying to become an officer of the law so she was very concerned that I would betray your family.”

“Is that why we were never allowed to transform in front of Stiles?”

“No,- well, maybe. I know that your mother wanted you to understand how to control yourself and your instincts around humans so that’s why you were always as a wolf. You were allowed to play with a human as a wolf and your mother was always so grateful for that. We never really understood why.”

Stiles took a break from the conversation and reviewed how well this evening had gone. His father loved Derek in the most paternal way and Derek looked at his father like he was meeting a new family member for the first time. Derek’s expressions were so animated whenever he talked about old memories and his father looked like a burden had been lifted every time he spoke his mother’s name. Their eyes were so bright each time they mentioned an old memory and he could only sit back and relish in the happiness that was revolving around him.

A foot tapped his and saw Derek looking at him and he just tapped him back and gave him an appreciative smile.

Derek was still looking at Stiles when he spoke, “If it wasn't for Stiles, my sisters and I would never have been able to go to school, get jobs, or immerse ourselves into the human world at all. We are eternally grateful for the gift that you, and your wife gave us.”

“The gift of Stiles?”

Everyone started laughing.

“Well, as you can tell, my father is quite hilarious.”

There was moment where Stiles thought back to the issues that they were facing. This brief moment of relief from the pressures of reality was great but he knew they needed to talk about what was happening.

“We need to stop these hunters from killing more people.”

Derek and his father bowed their heads and stared at their hands on the hardwood table. “Stiles, this isn't your battle.”

“It is when they hurt you and attacked me.”

His father cut in, “Stiles, I will handle this.” Then turned to Derek, “I will handle this.”

Stiles wasn't angry, he was just stating his intentions. He wasn't going to allow his father to keep him from doing the things he’s trained to do. “I’m making this decision for myself, Father, I’m going to get these people caught whether you’re helping me or not.”

“Stiles, you aren't ready.”

“I’m not going to fear for Derek and Scott’s death.”

The argument wasn't heated but he could tell that his father was starting to get upset because of the crinkles he was now growing near his eyes. "I'm not going to fear for your death."

"I'm going to fight them. I'm going to do this."

Derek put his foot back on his and looked at him with a soft expression. He was always so open with his expressions, it took Stiles aback how often he's looked at the vulnerability playing on his face.

"Father, I have to help."

"My sister started tracking their scents awhile ago. So we’re already doing all that we can to stop this.”

That got Stiles attention, “Let me help you, they won’t suspect me! If they catch you then they’ll murder you and your family. But with me, they can’t touch me, I’m human and I’m the sheriff's son. They can’t just try to murder me without facing consequences at this point.”

Stiles father chimed in, “You were hurt.” Then he saw his father draw a breath in, “I can’t stop you from hunting them down but I would prefer you to talk to Deaton before doing anything irrational.”

Derek’s foot was still putting pressure on his foot. His presence was a gift to Stiles’ nerves. There was no awful rolling in his stomach, no shaking, and he couldn't help but silently praise him. “Are there many in your pack.”

Derek removed his foot and immediately looked ashamed. Stiles wanted to take back the question, get the smile back on his face, the pressure of his foot back on his.

“My- uh- my pack is not as great as it once was but it’s getting better.” He tried to give a hopeful smile but it faltered on his lips.

His father reached out and put his hand on Derek’s. There was a stunned moment where Derek didn't know what to do or what to say. He looked so shocked by the act of kindness from his father and it hurt something inside of Stiles. “Your pack will be great again. You and Laura are great leaders.”

There was a moment of silence before Stiles spoke again, “Do you know who Gerard Argent is?”

The mention of his name made his back stiffen and feral look come into his eyes, “I know exactly who he is. It was the Argent’s who murdered my family.”

“So you’ll feel no remorse for getting revenge.”

Derek sat still and motionless, the silence made something inside of him uneasy but when he looked up and spoke, Stiles knew that it would be okay, “Not at all.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finding time to write is difficult and I'm sorry if this sucks but life seems to get crazier and crazier.


	6. Chapter 6

_There was a soft rustling close to the side of his face and through the sleepy haze of consciousness he could sense who it was. He was wide awake but he had to pretend he was silently sleeping. He groped around blindly until he felt the wet fur and pulled paw closer to him._

_A cold wet nose pressed against his ear and he shrieked with glee. He kept his eyes tightly shut even though the wolf knew he was awake by now._

_He screamed, "hi, Silly Baby!"_

_The wolf pounced on his back and felt the dull claws dig under his skin and he let out a grunt of discomfort._

_He pushed Silly baby to the side and got up from where he was napping in the bushes with the wolf. He wondered where the boy wolf went off to, "where your brother?"_

_The wolf picked up her ears like a shrug._

_He ran back down to the stream where he saw his mother sitting delicately, herbs laying right next to her satchel and jars opened with musty paste sitting inside. Her long hair covered her shoulders but he could see where she had her hands in the stream with water flowing through her fingers._

_He ran down to her, the small rocks making him trip on legs that he wasn't quite sure of yet, and he hugged her from behind, "Momma, where the boy wolf?"_

_She turned around and scooped him up from off the ground and placed him, squealing and screaming, in her lap._

_She gave him a fake frown, "you were giving so much attention to the little one that he got upset and napped with his mother."_

_Stiles frowned and his mother continued, "you have to be fair with them, darling."_

_"But him was being mean."_

_"If he's being too rough then you need to tell me and I'll make him calm down. He has to learn to play differently with you. You're soft and delicate." Then she poked his ribs and tickled his belly._

_He was not soft and delicate and immediately became indignant towards his mother. He knew he wasn't a little baby anymore. "I'm not! I’m not a baby!"_

_His mother smiled at him and wiped the sweat that pooled on the side of his cheeks, 'you're right, you are no longer a baby. We better go get you a job and teach you how to cook all by yourself because you aren't my baby anymore."_

_Stiles tried to frown but his smile poked through and he was laughing, “No, momma! I no want job! I’ll be your baby.”_

_She smiled at him and he could feel the warmth radiating from the lines on her face into his mind. He held his mothers face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. "I love you, momma."_

_Her eyes lit up and she pulled him into her chest. Patting his back and rocking him back and forth, "I love you too, my amazing and wonderful boy."_

_Stiles pulled away from his mother who went back to what she was doing before he interrupted her and stumbled away to the opposite side of the stream. He needed to find the boy wolf. That stupid boy wolf._

_Silly baby followed behind as he wandered through the stream and up to find the area he was sleeping in. Stiles whispered to Silly Baby that she need to help him find her brother but when he saw the momma wolf and no boy wolf, he told Silly baby to stay by the momma._

_She looked at him with the most pitiful expression and he smiled, "I be back. I need to surprise him!"_

_He turned and went towards a narrow crevice in the rock wall and found him awake and looking at him. The boy wolf probably heard his footsteps from across the stream, so he just waited for Stiles with a glare._

_Stiles just plopped himself down on top of him and circled his hands around his neck. His chubby baby hands struggling for purchase in his thick coat of fur. "I like you."_

_He could feel the boy wolf shift underneath him until they were laying side-by-side next to each other. "I don't like when you get mad ‘cuz I play with Silly baby."_

_The wolf huffed and ignored him._

_Stiles didn't like when the boy wolf did this, when he ignored Stiles because he was playing with one of his sisters more, “if you won’t be nice then I won’t play with you now!”_

_The boy wolf lifted his head as he pulled himself away to get off the ground. He was going back to his mother, to tell her that the boy wolf was mean, and tell her that he never wanted to see him again.  But the boy wolf got up and followed right behind him._

_“Stop!”_

_The boy wolf ignored him and kept following him. He never once looked at him but trailed behind him without fail._

_“You like your big sister. She likes me for a little and then don’t like me at all. I hate you and I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”_

_Stiles turned and saw the boy wolf still facing the ground, there was a low rumble of growling coming from him, then he raised his head up and howled. Stiles backed away and tried to run as fast as he could before he felt the boy wolf nudge him to the ground._

_He screamed when he felt the skin on his knees shred and his elbows knock against the rocky ground with too much force._

_He heard his mother's voice yelling for him but he was trying to make sure the boy would wouldn't hurt him again. “Please don’t eat me. I be your friend.”_

_The boy wolf slowly approached Stiles, like he was getting ready to attack and devour. In the back of his mind he heard his mother's footsteps pounding against the ground as she ran to him, but that could be the heartbeat in his brain._

_Suddenly, he watched his mother’s form take place between him and the boy wolf. She pushed the boy wolf down as hard as she could and Stiles felt himself being lifted off of the ground and into her arms like a baby, her hands turning his head towards her breast and her other arm pulling his legs as close to her as they could possibly get. He was terrified of the boy wolf so he shut his eyes tight and breathed against his mother’s tunic , inhaling the comforting scent of her._

_He heard the boy wolf lowly growl at his mother but he couldn't see and didn't want to see. Then, from the bushes he heard the momma wolf snarl and Stiles turned his face from his mother’s hands to see him being pinned to the ground with so much force that Stiles could hear the bones crunch as he hit the ground._

_Stiles' mother began walking away, and Stiles looked at the boy wolf who looked like he was crying. His gold eyes leaking out and his breath labored. His mother was pounding into him, beating out every impulse he ever felt._

_Stiles wiggled in his mother's arms, "Wait, momma. Wait. He didn't mean it."_

_She held him tightly, "No, my love, he needs to be disciplined. He needs to learn that he's never allowed to do harm."_

_Stiles just wiggled harder, his eyes still locked with the boy wolfs, the expression on his face losing focus, "Stop! Please! It's my fault!"_

_His mother turned her head and kept walking forward. Stiles silently wept as he watched the boy wolf lose the light in his eyes._

*********************************************

Deaton was distracted the entire day and Stiles found it hard to get him focused enough to answer questions about the hunters.

“What the hunters are doing is despicable, they’re murdering children for the simple goal of finding a wolf.”

Deaton didn't even glance his direction, he was too focused on searching through the stacks of scrolls on his desk, "I know."

Stiles watched him lick his fingers and separate the pages of the bound book that he was holding. He kept fluttering around the room, picking books up and setting them down. Looking through his herbal remedy drawers and then closing the drawer without withdrawing anything.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Deaton kept his focus on what he was looking at and completely ignored his question, "Stiles, has your father been working?"

Stiles was confused, "uh- yes, of course. Why?"

Deaton blew past him and began crawling on the floor underneath the wooden table that was supporting his volumes of writing. "I think someone's been stealing."

Stiles didn't know what to say, it wasn't him of course, and he wanted to announce that but it would be in poor taste to start defending himself. Maybe Deaton misplaced it, Stiles knew this office inside and out so he could help find whatever it is.

“What have they stole? I could help you find it.”

Deaton stopped moving and looked at him right at him, eyes wide and searching, “do you know if your father was patrolling when I was away?”

Stiles stuttered, “I- uh- I don’t really know.”

“Shit.”

“I’ll help you find whatever-”

Deaton cut him off, and waved his hand, “It’s not that simple. I’m going to have to leave again. I need to go to Throughten.”

“Why?”

“I need to see Ms. Blake, she’s probably the only one who can help me.”

Stiles shuffled his feet, he didn't need his mentor leaving him, not in the midst of what was going on with the hunters. “Why her? She hates alchemists and,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at him, “what about the hunters?”

Deaton looked at him and smiled, his white teeth poking from behind his lips, “they can’t touch me.”

Stiles knew he was right, but it didn't quell the nagging thoughts of _‘what if they attack him?_ ’ or, _‘what if they attack the town without Deaton to protect it?’_. “They still need to be stopped.”

Deaton turned his back and rummaged through the next set of cabinets. Dust began cascading around their heads and he struggled to hold back a cough, “they do.”

"How do we stop them?"

There was a beat of silence and Stiles couldn't imagine Deaton leaving again, it didn't sit well inside of him. Deaton just stared into the cupboard and huffed out a breath of air sending more dust flying. "I've been trying to stop them for years. You aren't presenting me with new information at this point."

He turned away from the cabinets to face Stiles, he held his waist as he eased his way down onto the floor, cringing when his knee bent. "All the alchemists and apothecaries know. We've known since they murdered the whole family of wolves. I knew Talia- the alpha and the mother of all the wolves because I helped deliver the middle and youngest child of hers.” Deaton cracked his knuckles and scratched the back of his neck in an almost nervous manner, “we've known what the hunters have been waiting for and we knew when it was going to happen." Deaton rubbed his face, “we all knew that when your generation was getting ready to leave home and find jobs was when they’d start attacking.”

Stiles threw his hands in the air, "But then, why haven't you- why haven't you- you know?"

Deaton stared at him with his sullen eyes, "I want you to ask me the question out loud."

He knew why. Once it registered in his brain, it was as if he were about to ask, _"why aren't we getting angry with these hunters who are murdering wolves and other supernatural things when according to everyone they've been deemed evil?_ " The realization overwhelmed him and tried to push the urge to be sick away from him.

"The hunters have the town at their mercy. They could justify even murder they've committed."

Stiles just stared at the floor, looking at the wood that splintered underneath his shoes. _These hunters could kill me and justify it completely._

When he finally pulled his eyes away from the splintered wood on the floor, he saw that Deaton was staring at him. “If you want to take them down, you have to prove that they’re killing a bunch of children for no reason or do it secretly. You also have to tie all these murders to them which could be impossible.”

“So I’m going to have to do this secretly?”

Deaton sighed, “Most likely.”

Stiles just stood, picking at his fingernails and staring at the floorboards, “You still have to go back to Throughten, though?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“I know I keep saying this but we do need to get that quartz on you. We also need to finish your training even though I think you’re ready,” and gave Stiles a weak smile. “I feel guilty leaving you like this but this is the nature of our job.”

Stiles couldn't articulate how much this trip worried him, and he was trying not to let Deaton see how weak he was so he just remained stoic and unmoving. He cleared his throat, “when will you return?”

“Two nights at the most. So if I’m not back in two nights then you can start worrying. But I don’t want you to think that if I haven’t returned then I must be dead. I’ll hide. Alchemists are good at hiding.” And slipped out a smile that didn't quite reach his face.

“So, I’ll see you soon?”

“You will. Please take care while I’m away and if you need anything from here, you know where it is. Don’t be afraid to re-read anything while I’m gone.” Then he rolled his eyes at Stiles, “as if you would ever re-read.”

Stiles smiled and pretended to be offended, “hey!”

Deaton closed his hands around his mouth and whispered something in an ancient language into his palms. Then he clapped his hands together and suddenly he felt the spell cascade around him, he felt the vibration of his runes waking, “what was that?”

“I put a protective cast on you. I need you to be safe and I also need you to know that while I’m gone, for however long that is, you are the head alchemist. Do you understand the responsibility of that?”

Stiles backed away, his stoicism vanished, desperation now filling it’s place, “No, please don’t.”

Deaton was calm, eyes closing momentarily to let Stiles calm down, “You know this job-”

Stiles was completely desperate, “please, Dr. Deaton!”

“Stiles,” he was still calm, “You need to come up with a solution to the problems at hand. You have people surrounding you to help you whenever you ask.”

Stiles pleaded, “don’t do this to me,” but he knew Deaton was being firm with this.

Stiles knew he couldn't do this, he’d ruin the town, Deaton needed his niece from Liften to come in and take over, not Stiles. The nerves were beginning to take over and his instinct to run was overwhelming. He wanted to get on his knees and beg Deaton not to go and reconsider. He wanted to cry and kiss his hands and tell him he can’t do it and that he's making a huge mistake.

Deaton just smiled to himself and shut his eyes, “I think of you like a nephew, Stiles. I trust you and I trust in your abilities. You’re stronger than you think and once you realize that you’ll be the most powerful alchemist in the land.”

Stiles was close to crying now and tried to keep the tears in his eyes.

“I’ll be fine and so will you.”

Stiles voice was harsh from swallowing back the feeling of tears, “you swear that you’ll return- that this is only temporary?”

Deaton nodded.

“Then, I’ll try to get rid of them, I promise.”

“I know you will, Stiles.”

Stiles tried to look at Deaton and memorize every feature about him. He tried to make sure to note of his wrinkles on his forehead, the dark course hair dusting his jaw, and the way his hands sat delicately on his lap, but he couldn't. Every time he looked at Deaton he felt like crying. _‘This isn't goodbye, you idiot. Deaton will come back and everything will be fine. Stop crying.’_  

“Thank you.” Then Stiles walked out of his office with some certainty that he wouldn't see Deaton again for a long time. These hunters knew that Deaton knew about them and they were going to try and get him. It made him feel sick to think about someone trying to harm Deaton but, like Deaton said, this is the nature of their job.

****************************************************

When he pulled open the door and walked into the threshold of his house he saw his father sitting stiffly at the table with a woman right across from him, his head snapped to face Stiles and had a look of terror in his eyes.

The blood ran through his body and straight to his stomach and he instantly had a rune on the tip of his tongue waiting for her to even try to move. But when she turned to face him he could see that she was going to do anything, she seemed pretty calm and collected. She had wavy brown hair that fell to her waist and dark brown eyes that seemed cat-like and predatory. She was dressed like the average hunter with her leather boots and leather belts criss-crossing her torso and waist.  

She hopped out of her seat, and tried her hardest to sound like she was actually a decent person, “oh my, this must be your boy!”

Stiles heard the forced sweetness in her voice and resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. Instead he held out a hand and smiled so brightly, he was sure she could see all of his teeth. “I’m Stiles.”

She tilted her head to the side and tried to conceal the disgusted look on her face before speaking, “what an interesting name. My name is Katherine Argent, but all my friends call me Kate,” and winked at him.

He tried to stop the overwhelming urge to vomit.

This must be the Elder’s daughter, those bastards were already on his trail and he hadn't even started planning their demise. He filled his voice with fake sincerity, “it’s nice to meet you, Katherine.” The humor left her eyes and she dropped her facade once she realized that he wouldn’t play along with her dialogue anymore. He steeled himself and looked right back into her soulless eyes.

She maintained her eye contact. No one was going to relent in this game.

"Sheriff? Could you give us a minute please?"

He watched his father stand and put his hand on his hip, reaching for a baton. Stiles tried to plead with his eyes and convey a message of _'I'll be okay. She can't touch me.'_

Then his father backed off, "sure thing. I'll be outside with the horses."

Kate turned to flash him a brilliant smile, the niceness seeping back into her voice. "Thanks so much, sheriff. I'll only take a moment of his time." There was so much fake sincerity going into trying to get his father to believe her when he could tell that his father thought she was terrible.

Once the door latched shut Stiles felt the rune boil and roar beneath his skin making goosebumps spread across the entire expanse of his body. He felt certain that he was going to murder this woman.

Her smile disappeared and she crowded into his personal space, "so, Stiles," he could tell she was trying to be intimidating and seductive but he couldn't feel that, all he saw was this woman who was trying too hard to be tough when all she is is a ruthless tormentor.

"So, Katherine," he pushed himself closer to her, invading her space like she had done to him, their noses almost touching, "what do you want?"

She smirked, he voice dropping low, to an almost childlike manner, "I just want to know how close you are to these wolves that seem to be roaming all over the Hills?"

_'Make this lie good'_ , this was going to be the only way she'd leave him alone. He changed his expression to confused and kind of shocked, "well, I hate to tell you this but I have no idea what you are talking about."

She stared at him, waiting for him to give a nervous twitch or any other sort of indication that he was lying. “Well, I have it on good authority that a wolf attacked some young workers in Throughten after you attacked them first, then you ran off into the woods with the wolf.”

Stiles let the anger grow, “well, I have it on good authority that the,” and sardonically spoke, “young workers,” and switched back to his normal voice, “that attacked me in Throughten were working for your father and that the arrow I pulled out of my leg was branded with the argent symbol.” By this time he was so riled up that he spit as he spoke, “and that wolf that helped me actually did nothing for me. I dragged myself into the woods and shielded myself away from your men. There was no wolf with me, and now I’m horribly offended that you would come here accusing me of something when it was you,” and poked her shoulder, pushing her backwards as he spoke, “who shot an arrow through my leg.”

Katherine began to back away. Stiles could tell she was visibly shaken even though she wasn't going to show it.

Stiles walked closer to her, crowding against her again, he knew her back hit the dining room table but he was still trying his hardest to make her feel threatened and uncomfortable, “would you like to know a secret, Katherine.” He moved closer to her ear, whispering, “I still have the arrow, with the branding, and with the poison stuck to it like sap.”

He was lying, he didn't have the arrow, he didn't know if there was any branding on it, but he didn't care, this vile creature standing in front of him had the audacity to come into his home and accuse him of attacking those men in Throughten? He’d be damned before he took that threat in his own home.

He pulled away and looked back into Katherine’s eyes, she had been beaten and she knew it.

“And another thing, which I bet you’ll find also interesting- I have a friend in Throughten who visually saw the three of your men harassing me and could probably point them out to my father.” He thought of the shopkeeper who let him buy the sweet roll and prayed that if worse came to worse then he'd be able to remember Stiles.

“So the next time you want to come into my home, Katherine, you better find a better fucking thing to accuse me of or I’ll tell my father about our little conversation and we’ll see how well the town elders react to your harassment of the sheriff’s son.” He smiled right in her face, victory playing on the pull of his lips.

She huffed out a breath and pushed him out of the way, “you better watch yourself, Stiles. You might find yourself in another situation and your dad, or your wolf, won't be there to help you.”

He watched her open the door, “You should watch yourself, too, Katherine.” And mimicked the wink she gave him earlier.

*******************************

"Do you think she was sent here by the elder argent?"

His father shrugged his shoulders and slurped down more bean soup.

Stiles sat watching his father and alternating between reading one of the ancient rune books. He loved this book because the spells were more complex and required more runes to complete. He wanted more runes, the more he thought about it. The one spell he was studying required at least 4 four permanent runes, and an advanced knowledge of the solar astronomy spells, and a complex knowledge of star charts. He was in love with a rune he couldn't even perform.

"How was work today?"

Stiles was struck with the realization of having to tell his father that Deaton might not be coming back. Between Deaton leaving and Katherine showing up, this day has been awful.

He swallowed the lump lodged in his throat, "I don't think he's coming back. He's going to Throughten and he has this feeling that something bad is going to happen so he’ll probably go into hiding somewhere."

His father dropped his spoon into the bowl, visibly alarmed, "what do you mean? If he needs assistance, an officer can guide him there and back. Stiles, where is he? I can send someone that way immediately!"

He sighed, "it doesn't matter anymore, father. These hunters know that Deaton knows what they’re doing. Deaton is powerful enough that these hunters could never lay a hand on him anyway, so it doesn't matter."

His father was getting frustrated and turning bright red, "yes, it does! We can prevent him from leaving."

"Father, please don’t think that I didn't try to reason with him! I begged him to stay but he refused,” he was thinking about how hard he was scouring his office for what he’d lost- or what had been stolen. “It's inevitable, that's why it doesn't matter. Even if they don’t try to attack him on this trip, they will on another! They know Deaton is powerful and they must know that Deaton is putting the pieces of their scheme together if Katherine Argent shows up on our doorstep demanding answers.”

His father picked his spoon back up and stirred the beans around, “so, Deaton will eventually return?”

Stiles laughed mirthlessly, “I hope so.”

His father was confused, “who will be the alchemist for the Hills then?”

Stiles laughter now became manic and pointed to himself, “you’re looking at him.”

Bless his father, he had the graces not laugh along with him. He actually looked proud of him.

There was some awkward silence that stretched between them once he had stopped laughing. Stiles just went back to reading about the rune, somewhere deep in his mind he had made peace with the fact that Deaton would be gone temporarily. He’d be fine. He could do this.

A whisper passed to Stiles’ ears and it sounded like, “she’d be proud of you,” but he couldn't be sure so he glanced up from his book.

His father cleared his throat, “your-uh- Mother would be proud of you.” Then he reached out and covered Stiles’ hand with his own.

“She’d be more proud of me if I could stop what’s happening.”

His father removed his hand from Stiles' and put his hands under his chin like in a prayer or he was about to be deep in his thoughts. "Then let's figure out.”

He pulled his hands away, “first off, what do you want the outcome to be?”

Stiles pondered for a moment, “justice.”

His father shook his head, “too broad, narrow it down. You have to be specific.”

“I want the elder Argent to be held accountable for his actions-”

“Which are?”

“Conspiring against the town, murdering innocent people, murdering children-”

“I understand what you are saying but you have to prove he’s behind all this. How can you do that?”

Stiles thought, “well you could-”

“No, I can’t be involved in any way in the uncovering of this.”

“Well, we could use Scott?”

“How?”

His head was beginning to throb with pressure, “why are we doing this, father?”

“If you really want to stop the hunters then we have to put a plan together that is completely fool-proof.”

Stiles rubbed his temples, “okay, we could convince Scott into talking to Allison and getting her father to go along with this. He has proof of this, he could bring in weapons, potions that they've used, and other things.”

His father smiled, “good, keep going. What if Allison’s father refuses?”

Stiles thought about it, they need Allison and her father, they were crucial. “That’s not an option, Scott has to make sure he won’t refuse.”

“Okay, what about the rest of the members, like Katherine and her henchmen?”

Stiles didn't really know, he wanted to catch them and bring the victim and the attacker in front of the council to be tried but that seemed arduous and time consuming. But what other option was available? He could have Derek help be the muscle behind bringing the attacker back to the council but he could never force Derek to be part of this.

He could collect proof either through finding victims or tracking the hunters and watching where they went and then he could bring his father along to track them as well. Or, he could just fight them and murder every single one of them.

“What about making a public display of this? Every time you find a victim or you find an attacker, you could stun them and run for the councilmen and officers in the area?”

He was hesitant about displaying the powers of his rune, especially to the people who are associated with the Argents. “Do you think I should be using my rune in front of people?”

“Well, you’ll have to but make something up.” Then he snapped his fingers and pointed, “say it was a simple alchemy enchantment for defensive purposes or some powerfully enchanted dust that you blew on them to stun them.”

“Well, I can’t track them for long. I have to stay close because I have to make sure that all alchemy issues are resolved.”

“Just track the upper part of the Hills, Scott can track the lower parts since that’s where he’ll mainly be focusing because of his apothecary training.”

Something else was weighing on him, he couldn’t quite place it. They had formulated a pretty solid plan but there was something missing. Something big.

“What if they catch an actual wolf?”

Stiles knew that they knew better by now, “they won’t.”

“How are we going to get the public on our side?”

That was it, that was one of the big obstacles. The public has been afraid of the wolves ever since the little girl was attacked in the woods but nobody ever thought that it was a one time thing. Nobody ever assumed that maybe they were exaggerating the violent nature of them. “We have to sway the public, we have to sort of give them some gossip. Does that make sense? Plant the seed of wariness in the public.”

His father slapped the table, “that I can do!”, he shuffled in his seat so he was sitting up straighter, "I can go to the inn and mention how the elders are doing nothing to prevent the murders except make the officer's patrol. I can say that everyone is beginning to doubt their leadership abilities."

"That's perfect."

"I'll just make the public start doubting. That's good enough," then he strummed his fingers against the wood, "what about Derek? What will his role be?"

"He'll try to stop me, you know that. So he'll have no role. I don't even want him knowing that I'm doing this."

"No, he needs to know. That's not fair to him."

"Fine," Stiles raked his fingers through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck, wishing Derek was here to be next to him just his comforting presence would be nice even though they were talking about him. Stiles couldn't help but thinking _'what if Derek died at the hands of the hunters?'_  , it would be entirely his fault. He could never subject him to this, he could never force him into this. "He can track with me if he wants. Only if he wants to though! I will not force him."

"That's fine as long as he knows. Keeping this from him would be terrible."

He knew his father was right but it didn't make it any easier. He pulled his hands out of his hair, "you're right." It hurt him to say it but he knew that he was right.

************************************

Stiles looked up into the sky, watching the clouds as they floated by making slight shadows on his face. Some of them resembled animals, some resembled sailing ships, and he felt as if he was transported to only being a few summer seasons old and doing the exact same thing with his mother in the hottest part of the summer.

He needed a break from life and that’s exactly what he told his father this morning. His father agreed and said he didn’t need to go back to Deaton’s office until he hadn't returned past the second day. This entire plan hung on Deaton not returning so he decided to spend his day like did when he was a child. He loved the sun and loved being able to sleep all day.

He really loved the way the sun burnt the delicate skin on his nose and cheeks and the way the sweat stuck to him on a day like this didn't make him feel gross, it made him feel like he had spent his day well. It always made him feel renewed every time the skin peeled after a good burn and new freckles took place on him.

_‘No one ever came down to the stream,’_ he thought to himself, so he felt safe to take off his tunic, no one would be able to see him or the scars. He looked around the woods before actually undressing and when he heard and saw nothing he threw off his tunic. Balling the tunic up tight and placed it under his head to support his neck as he laid back down.

His body relaxed under warmth of the sun and he could feel the warmth reaching the soft pale skin on his chest.

He closed his eyes until he became uncomfortable and achy and then flipped over so the sun could touch his back.

A voice cut through his reverie of silence, "Hey."

Stiles sprang up and reached for his tunic so he could throw it back on. _'How could he not have heard someone approaching.'_ Once he finally turned to see who it was he saw Derek standing front of him, taking off his own shirt. That image was insanely arousing and that made him relax somewhat but still felt the need to cover himself up.

"Uh, hey." Stiles was fumbling with his tunic and not making eye contact with him and Derek just ignored his flailing and sat down next to him.

"Stop acting weird and lay back down."

Stiles didn't want to lay down with his scars just exposed to him. They were so embarrassing and unexplainable.

Derek laid down, his shirt tucked under his head, facing the sun with his eyes closed and his arm draping over his brow, not even looking at Stiles, "just lay down."

He felt so uncomfortable just laying back down, it was awful, but this was Derek. Derek didn't demand explanations or anything from Stiles, well, he didn't when they were younger. He didn't know how to proceed. He had the screaming desire to lay down and spend the day with Derek but he had the screaming desire to run and put his tunic back on and never speak of this moment again.

The urge to spend time with Derek outweighed his urge to run away. He watched Derek’s arm move down to his side and his throat move with each swallow. So he balled his tunic back up and laid back down next to Derek. His nerves were still racing and begging for him to run away but he fought- he wouldn't run. He could do this and be normal. A feather light touch off fingers grazed his open palm and then tentatively tangled through his and he was instantly pulled from the panicky thoughts.

Stiles’ heartbeat picked up and he rolled his head to the side to look at Derek who was still staring towards the sun with a smile playing on his lips.

He couldn't help but smile along with him as he turned to face the sun.

He knew he needed to broach the subject of what had been happening and decided to go easy, start of with the lightest issue that he was facing. "A woman came by my house to intimidate me yesterday."

The smile vanished, "who?"

"Katherine Argent."

Derek's fingers gripped a little tighter.

"I pretty much told her that if she touches me-,"

"I'll kill her." The animation in Derek's voice was gone, "if she even looks at you again, I'll kill her."

"How do you-"

"I'm not answering that question right now." He released the tight grip on his fingers and let his hand loosely hang in Stiles'. "I just want to lay here in the sun with my best friend and enjoy the heat."

Stiles looked away from the sky to smile at him and reassure him, he wanted to run his fingers through his hair and stroke his face because that’s all he wanted also too! He desperately wanted to just lay in the sun with his best friend and forget the world. So he just settled with, "okay,” and hung on to Derek’s hand.

They laid in the sun for most of the day, experimentally touching each others backs and playing with the freckles that dusted their cheeks and shoulders. Stiles put pebbles on Derek's chest and counted that he could put over hundred on him without any falling off but then Derek laughed in the middle of it and Stiles’ didn't get an accurate count. Derek had kissed him on the forehead, and once Stiles had made it clear that he was okay with that, he moved to kiss his ear, and then his mouth. Once Derek’s fear dissipated, it was easier for him to kiss without hesitancy.

Every time he felt his lips on his he flushed and would try to get closer to him and make the kissing last longer. He let Derek trace the rune on his back and shoulder and Stiles felt it tingle and vibrate every time his hand touch them. Stiles reveled in the intimacy that they were getting share but the scars were always nagging in the back of his mind. Derek kissed his hands every time he felt Stiles pull away from their enjoyment and would keep kissing until he finally kissed back.

He remembers how he use to worry about having any inappropriate thoughts about men. He was terrified of someone finding out about these inappropriate thoughts but with Derek, it didn't matter. He was the reason Stiles always had worries and doubts about his liking of girls- which he did, of course. But Derek, Derek was the one he wanted above all. Deep down it had always been him and he knew it. And since Derek didn't care about the fact that he was kissing another man, he could be bothered to care either. Especially when he could feel how much Derek enjoyed their time together.

He saw the sun hang low in the sky and it illuminated the water rippling on the stream. Stiles had the desire to get in it and wash off in the stream before the sun had completely set on them. He gathered his breath and pulled off his breeches and underclothes in one swift motion and walked into the stream until it reached his waist.

When the water covered his lower body, he tried to sound as seductive as he could and spoke to Derek, "you should come in," but it sounded weird coming out of his mouth. So he laughed and splashed water in his direction, "just come in."

Derek just stared him in mouth hanging open and stood to remove his own breeches and underclothes. Stiles turned away to give him some privacy, he knew that even though they were about to be swimming naked, there was still some boundaries between them.

He heard water splash behind him and then felt the water hit his hair and he turned to face him but kept looking at the water.

Derek stroked his hair, “hello, Stiles.”

Stiles flushed, “hello, Derek.”

Derek grabbed his hand again and held on, just letting the stream gently flow through their fingers. Stiles finally looked up at Derek, his upper body wet from the water. The coarse hair that dusted his entire body was somehow more attractive when he was wet and it was not convenient for Stiles since he was extremely naked. Behind Derek the sun was setting and it made him glow. Derek was always glowing, always so illuminated, it was as if the light was made specifically for him. It made his eyes green like the water that shone around them. He was so beautiful and soft after a day of being intimate with each other.

“You’re even more attractive when you’re wet.”

Derek blushed brightly and looked down at the water, “I kind of wish I could hug you but well- you know.”

Stiles was confused, “what?”

Derek stared, “we are naked, sheep’s-brain! That's why we can't hug.”

Stiles smirked up at him, nakedness be damned, if Derek wanted to hug him then they would hug. Anything Derek wanted, stiles would give him without fail. Bravery flooded his brain as he spoke, “is that a problem?”

Derek stammered, “I-uh- well- you,”

He rolled his eyes, “just hug me, Derek.”

Derek moved closer and wrapped him up in a hug. He could feel Derek trying to avoid his naked waist so Stiles felt the need to make him feel it. Derek would try to pull away from him and Stiles would laugh. It was now a game of Stiles holding himself tightly against Derek and Derek trying to push him away and run away. Once he successfully caught Derek, he kissed his neck and moved up towards his mouth.

“You’re a menace.”

Stiles kept kissing, but muttered against his mouth, “I know.”

Derek pulled away, “so who else have you been kissing?”

“A few girls here and there.”

“So, you've done the other things as well?”

Stiles feigned ignorance, “what other things?”

“Like,” and dropped his voice down to a whisper, “touched under the under-clothes and had sex?”

“Well, I've kind of touched a girl under her under-clothes but I've never had sex. What about you? You’re so handsome, I can’t imagine any woman or man not wanting to touch you.”

Stiles felt him pull away from him but he still kept his hands on his waist, “I’m not- uh- I don’t really like women. And you were my first kiss. I thought I told you that.”

“I kind of thought you meant that I was your first kiss with a boy. I've never kissed another man before you.”

Derek finally smiled back at that. He could tell that Derek liked knowing that he was Stiles first kiss with a boy. It did something to Stiles body that he didn't want to think about. Derek's accent and stutter was starting to get worse because he was getting nervous, it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. It just made him want to plant kisses all over his body and touch him forever every time he heard him stammer on his words. Not that he didn't want to lay him down on the dry land and hump him like a dog in heat, but he knew they should slow down if Derek was getting this nervous.

He had no idea how intense his desire for sex had become since kissing Derek all day long. He had been feeling his cock stiffen after every caress and he couldn't get enough. He couldn't get enough of the way Derek’s calloused palms held his waist, how he blushed whenever Stiles complimented him, or how he would let out a sigh whenever Stiles kissed his neck, which would only make him stiffer.

“I like kissing you better than anyone I've ever kissed.” Derek wouldn't make eye contact, “I still can’t believe you’re here with me.”

“I can’t believe I left you for so long.”

“Well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Derek pulled him back to him and rested his head on Stiles shoulder and whispered, “yes.”

Stiles looked ahead towards the almost set sun and stroked the hairs on the nape of Derek's neck, reveling in the feeling of Derek’s solid weight pressing against his own. “Want to come home with me and eat dinner with my father and myself?”

Derek pressed a kiss to his shoulder, stubble tickling his skin, “of course.”

********************************

Dinner was great, his father wasn't upset or even annoyed that he brought Derek home with him for dinner. He didn't even ask where he saw Derek or why they were both wet and red. It wasn't like his father to not be inquisitive about his son's life outside of the house.

“Has Stiles told you about his plan?”

Derek turned in his seat to face Stiles, who was putting all the dirty dishes in the wash basin, “no, what plan?”

Stiles didn't want to ruin this day, it was such a good day, it would be a perfect day if they could avoid the imminent dangers looming over them. He just wanted to finish dinner, walk Derek out and maybe kiss him by the barn and tell him he'd see him tomorrow. That's all he wanted.

Derek was looking at him expectantly, "what plan?"

His father cut in, "excuse my son, you must know how rude he is by now."

"Father, can we wait to talk about this until Deaton returns?"

His father rolled his eyes, "if he returns."

Stiles dropped the plates and they clanged against one another, "exactly!"

Derek just sat at the table, his fingers finding the holes in the wood and digging into them, "just tell me, Stiles."

Turning away from the basin, Stiles faced his father and Derek, "Deaton might not come back from this trip to Throughten." He took a deep inhale, remembering the forehead wrinkles, the white teeth, the hands that didn't seem to age on his dark skin. "If he doesn't come back, I'm going to start tracking them, and try to catch them murdering innocent people."

Stiles watched the expression on Derek's face change and each word that Stiles spoke felt like razor's slicing through their perfect day. "My father is going to stay here like normal and spread doubt within the community. The citizens need to doubt the leaders ability to lead and doubt the hunters entirely."

"Scott is going to track around the lower levels of the Hills with his lady who knows what to look for and he's going to prevent anything from happening with his lady and her father."

His father saw how Derek had stiffened in his chair and rested his hand on his shoulder. "I mean- this has to be a public affair. We have to let the citizens see what these hunters and what the elder Argent has allowed to happen under his command."

It was hard to read Derek's expression, "where do I fit into this plan."

"Well, I wasn't planning on you wanting to be part of this, you've already lost- and I didn't want to make any assumptions." He was so grateful that he caught himself before he said _'you've already lost almost your entire family,'_ but it was the truth that laid under this decision. Stiles wasn't going to plan for Derek to come with him, he would never ask that of him.

"But you could come with me, I want to track the upper parts of the Hills and I want to make sure nothing happens in this part of the Hills. I also want to start noting the hierarchy of this organization."

His father cut in again, "the more you kids can find, the easier it will be to bring them to justice."

Derek just stared down at his hands, still digging, and moving, never looking at Stiles, not even glancing his direction, "You were going to do this alone, weren't you? You will die doing this, there's no other outcome that this situation could possibly have!"

"I- yes. I'm trained though, I can protect myself and others. I'm not as weak as you must think I am!"

Derek finally lifted his head away from staring at his hands and looked him dead in the eye, anger blurring his irises, "you're an idiot. I can't believe you're doing this."

Then he pushed his chair out, the legs scratching against the floor making the worst noise he'd ever heard, and walked out of his house without saying bye or acknowledging anyone.

Stiles knew he wasn't dramatic enough to actually slam the door behind him but he felt that he had it in him to do it.

"He's just upset, what you're telling him isn't pleasant. What did you expect his reaction to be?"

"What do you mean? Are you blaming me for his reaction? You're the one who told me that I had to tell him!"

His father laughed humorlessly, "this is your idea and something you want to do! And what do you think he would have done if you didn't tell him and he found out later? His reaction would be way worse than this."

Stiles threw up his hands with a dramatic flair, he felt exasperated, "so we just let more people die or get turned into wolves? Is that what he's expecting me to do? Just sit idly by and let this happen?"

"I'm not saying that what you're doing isn't noble but what I am saying is that Derek just got you back. He's found you when he expected to never see you again." He dropped his voice down to a whisper, "he watched his mother tortured and his father murdered right in front of him. Many of his cousins were set on fire, the babies captured and experimented on, and then he had to leave you- his only friend in his life. And now? Now he might lose you too! In the same way as many of his family members. Please find some understanding and maybe some compassion for him." He pushed himself away from the table, the chair scratching against the floor like Derek's had, and Stiles was left standing in the kitchen wondering where he had gone wrong. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens and actually being able to do something for fun becomes a challenge. I'm flattered that there are people who are willingly reading this so thanks a whole bunch.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles had resolved to stay in Deaton’s office all day. There was no way he could be home surrounded by the emptiness. He wanted to be reading about new runes at the very least, or assisting anyone who needed his help, maybe even try to create a design for the quartz. Anything to distract from the events that transpired yesterday.

He’d been carrying around a dull ache inside his chest ever since he woke up. He felt it when he dry heaved until his ribs threatened to collapse, and he felt it after he walked into the living area and could feel his father’s absence scream at him in the silence of the house. He barely slept at all and his exhaustion only made the aching worse. He wished he knew where Derek lived so that he could find him, tell him he was sorry, and try to explain everything. But he didn't know where Derek lived and the more he thought about it the more he realized that he really didn't know much about Derek at all.

When he took a different perspective about Derek he realized how odd this situation looked. Derek mysteriously rescued him from someone threatening to kill him, then he sees him more frequently and even kisses him, and he still knows nothing about where the wolves were, what they did, and why they’re even back. Derek is seemingly okay with kissing him, okay with his brain being messed up, and okay with him being an alchemist. All of which are frowned upon in the society they live in.

The more he was able to think about this situation, the angrier he got.

Stiles went into Deaton’s desk, his anger making him slam the cabinets open and shut, and began reading his private books that he kept stashed away from the general public’s eye. He didn’t want to think about Derek anymore, all he wanted to do was focus on this specific incantation that he was now trying to understand. He let himself be wrapped up in the book and he realized that the writer was writing about harnessing the weather and being able to will it by using runes. But what he was failing to grasp was how the writer was doing the alchemy without speaking a specific incantation. Alchemists have been trying over and over to copy this specific incantation for a long time with no success. It was as if he felt the weather and then willed it to change to what he wanted. The text was so old and the language was so different he couldn’t accurately translate it. So he gave up and started on another book.

The other book that was now holding his attention was one that let you harness the animals in your vicinity. This spell was also like a feeling, except the creator used his pets as subjects and many of the other writers in this book suspected that the animal’s loyalty was crucial for the writer's success in how he was able to harness them. It seemed to have low success rates based on the previous reader’s comments by the margins.

Stiles was devouring the books, he was beginning to understand that alchemy had no rules and that each alchemist seemed to excel in certain specific areas depending on where their interests lay. There were alchemists who could control the weather, some could control animals, some could use the power of the stars, some could make the water bend to their will- which was now where his attention was being held.

The water incantation was especially mesmerizing because in order to perform it, the alchemist had to have been born near or in water for it to work. The alchemist could make the water rise and fall at their will, and make the animals in the specific body of water bend to your will. It was such a miraculous form of alchemy that he couldn’t even believe that there were people who could do this. But according to the other writers in the book, no one could perform this incantation other than the original writer.

Stiles cradled the book in his palms, the stars and constellations on the outside of the cover made the book look like it was magic. He looked outside the window to catch the sun beginning its descent into the horizon ahead and couldn’t believe he spent that much time reading. That much time away from his persistent and agonizing thoughts.

He put the book under his arm, he was taking it home with him since Deaton wasn’t coming back, and began putting the other books back in their original cabinets. He took note of how dusty the office was and wrote down on a scrap piece of parchment on the desk to dust when he came back in tomorrow.

The more he looked around, the more he realized how out of place everything was ever since Deaton came in searching for whatever had been stolen. So he picked up a few herbs and ingredients and put them in their normal locations. The lavender bundles that were being dried on a line above the window had fallen off so he put it back on the hook to finish drying.

Lavender was one of his favorite smells because his mother would always have some in her hair, dangling from the braids, and from the leather ties she would use to pull her hair back. She would spend hours weaving lavender wraps for him to wear on his head like a crown. He bent back down and took a few sprigs that fell out of the bundle and stuck them in his hair.

The thyme and mint had also fallen off of their lines, so he went to pick them up and noticed a boot print with the fallen leaves crunched into the dust. The boot print was small, too small in comparison to his own. He was crouching down, staring at this inconsequential boot print when the realization hit him.

Someone had broken in.

Someone had broken in right after Deaton had left.

Stiles heard the door creak open at that moment, the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up and instantly he crawled across the floor back to the desk to hide underneath. He had the rune for fire sparked on his fingertips and waited for the footsteps to come closer until he attacked the intruder.

A voice cut through his thoughts of attack, a shy and timid voice rang out amidst the silence of the office. “Hey, Stiles.”

He knew that voice. He rolled his eyes, laughing at his own idiocy. He thought someone would attack him by coming into the front door. As if that would ever happen. In defense of his stupidity, he was put on edge after seeing the boot print and realizing that someone broke in recently.

Stiles stood up from crouching under the desk and was met with a quizzical look from Derek. “What were you doing down there?”

Stiles fumbled on his words, and pointed to the ground. “Oh, I- I dropped something…”

Derek just stared at him, his eyebrow raised and his eyes making that judgmental look that he always gives Stiles. “Okay then.”

Stiles looked at Derek, and could feel a smile spreading on his face, but he remembered that he was vaguely angered by Derek, and very angered at himself for being insensitive the previous evening. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked to the ground, noticing even more dust that somehow has doubled since being in the office. “Sorry for last night. I was just being-”

Derek cut him off, “no, I’m sorry for abruptly leaving last night. It was inappropriate and rude of me.”

Stiles stared. “I should have told you about it before my father forced me to tell you about it.”

"We were having such a good day yesterday, I understand why you didn't want to and ruin it."

Stiles finally let the smile take over, Derek enjoyed the day just as much as he had and he couldn't really believe it. "You had a good day?"

Derek frowned, a rejected look spreading across his features. “You didn’t?”

Stiles stepped forward hands stretched toward Derek. “No!” He walked forward until his hands were cradling Derek’s face. There’s no way he was about to let Derek think that yesterday wasn’t the best day he had in a long time. “Derek,” he laughed, “honestly, yesterday was one of the best days I’ve had in so long.”

Stiles hands were still cradling his face and he realized how awkward it was, so he pulled away. Derek reached up and put his own hands on top of his and Stiles felt how much closer he was to Derek now. This was Stiles’ favorite view, close enough to see the light freckles that dusted the bridge of his nose, the pattern of facial hair that circled on his face, the lines that dented his forehead. Stiles couldn’t help but stare, open mouthed and enamored by him. Derek was so much light condensed into one person, he was so divine and Derek must have sensed what he was feeling because he leaned forward slightly and kissed his nose.

Stiles pulled away from him, laughing to himself. “I can’t believe I was angry with you earlier.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow. “Why were you mad at me?”

There was confidence in his voice, he wasn’t going to back away from the anger he felt earlier just because Derek was sweet. Stiles stared at his lips. “Because I don’t know anything about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t know where you live, I don’t know what you did while you were away, I don’t know your sisters, I don’t know why you like me, why you’re okay with liking me, why you’re-”

“Stiles, you can come see them.”

He sputtered, “wha-?”

Derek rolled his eyes and kept his voice carefree and light, “I’m not keeping anything from you. You just never asked.”

“So, I can see your sisters?”

Derek moved closer. “Yes.”

“You can tell me what you did during your time away from the Beacon?”

Derek took his hands in his. “Yes.”

“You can tell me why you like me?” Stiles felt his face heat up as the question left his lips.

Derek kissed the tops of his hands. “I thought that one was obvious?”

“No, it’s not and I’m really confused as to why you like me.”

Derek kissed his open palm. “Well, it started many seasons ago.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” Then he moved in to kiss the skin above his tunic.

“When?”

He trailed the kisses up his neck until he was right below his ear. He paused to take a breath then muttered against the hollow of his throat, “I can’t give away all of my secrets at once.”

Stiles laughed, he felt the vibrations of Derek’s hot breath against his throat all the way down to the ends of his body. He pushed his fingers through the back of Derek’s hair, encouraging him to keep kissing that spot. He muffled a moan and Derek ran his tongue over the same spot, and kept sucking and kissing.

“Does that feel good?” Derek asked, breathless against his neck.

Good wasn’t an accurate enough word to convey what it felt like, but it was close enough. “Yeah," he struggled to speak, "holy- holy shit.” Stiles had to clutch Derek’s hand that was firm against his hip. The other hand tangled in his hair, holding him steady. Derek’s panting against his neck was making him struggle to find something to cling to, the hand in his hair tugged playfully but Stiles ached to be rougher, to convey how it was making him feel.

Derek turned and scraped his beard along that section of his neck and Stiles finally let a moan slip out. Then he went to the other side and started kissing his neck right below the ear.

Stiles was starting to realize the physical strain against his breeches and how close he was to finishing right in the middle of Deaton’s office with Derek plastered against his side. He gently and unwillingly pulled  Derek away from his neck. “I really want to keep going with this but,” and glanced out of the window to see the last of the light was beginning to vanish, thinking about the physical strain in his breeches, “I need to get home.”

Derek stuck out his bottom lip, pouting. His lips slick with spit and violently red. Stiles groaned rolling his body against his, he couldn’t help himself and pulled Derek’s face back to where he was kissing his neck and they kissed more. Stiles was aching and just wanted to get a hand around himself. Derek wanted the same thing, judging by the minute thrusts he could feel against his thigh. But he couldn’t. Stiles couldn’t risk cumming right here. He couldn’t risk breaking what sexual bond they had just began to form.

“Now we have to stop. We are in my place of work and study.”

Derek relented and he watched as Derek stuck his hand down his own breeches to adjust himself. Stiles’ cock jumped, he was even more aroused by that small action.

He looked at Derek and noticed his hair askew from where Stiles had been tugging on it. He ran his own fingers through Derek’s hair to try and make it flatten it back down to normal but instead gave up and pulled him in by the ears to kiss his forehead.  

“Would you like to come to my house for dinner? So that my father can have proof that I've apologized enough.”

Stiles watched as Derek clutched his hand against his chest and nodded.

********************************

It had been two nights and Deaton had not come home. He prayed to the divines that he was safe and hiding with Ms. Blake, but he couldn’t help feeling like something worse had happened to him.

He sat by the stream waiting for Derek to take him to his sisters, he was trying to remember the incantation for the water enchantment he read about while he waited but it was one of those enchantments that was impossible to perform and didn’t even have a clear incantation to accompany the enchantment. So he muttered some of the ancient language and tried his hardest but nothing happened, not even a ripple in the water.

He sighed, threw the pebbles he was messing with into the stream, and then stood up to brush the dirt off his butt. He stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck. _‘At least his father was able to tell Scott about their plan. That’s something to be happy about.'_

His father had bombarded Scott outside of the local butcher’s shop and hauled him off into the woods to tell him the plan. His father said that he made sure to explain the whole plan from every single side and each person’s perspective so that there wasn’t any confusion or issues and so he could relay the plan to Allison and her father.

His father said that Scott had tentatively agreed to help. He said that he would be able to do the part that was required of him but he wouldn’t be able to do anything about Allison and her father unless they willingly did it. His father did his best to convince Scott to persuade them as much as he could, that a lot of this plan hung on the fact that they would be getting some proof of their malicious intent.

“Hey, sheep’s-brain!”

Stiles felt himself jolt and the fear ripped through him as he was pulled back into reality. “Oh, fuck you scared me!”, he breathed out roughly. He turned to playfully punched his upper arm and Derek grinned.

Derek extended his arm out to circle his waist and Stiles fell into it, still a little shaken by how silently Derek had approached. “Why are you so jumpy?”

Stiles brushed his hair off his forehead, and used his tunic to wipe away the sweat pooling on his brow. “I guess that’s what happens after being attacked in the woods.”

Derek’s smile fell. “I’m sorry about that.”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders, “It’s not your fault.”

“Do you still want to go meet my sisters? Or- well- not meet, because you know them. But actually see them?”

“Of course,” he laughed, “It’s so odd, though. I know you and your sisters, or I did, but I never really saw them and now I’m going to see them and I don’t really know them anymore.”

Derek let go of his waist and started walking towards the other side of the stream. He trailed behind him, making sure to watch where he walked so he wouldn’t trip and embarrass himself in front of Derek.

“When Cora came home after walking with you, we instantly recognized your smell on her. It was an instant thing too. Cora said Laura came home and instantly hugged Cora for a long time. Smell is, uh, really important to us. When I came home it was like a punch to the gut.”

“But I could smell her happiness before I was even close to the house. It made me worried, I guess, but it made me pause to think: What could make her that happy? Then when I got closer I smelled it- you, and I wondered if maybe you were at the house, or close enough to where Cora could see you. It was so odd.”

Stiles had to stop listening for a moment or else he’d trip or start running. _They really did miss you. You idiot._ These children were forced from their homes and made to run away from everything they knew and he was their only friend, the only person outside of their siblings and families that knew who and what they were. Of course they must’ve missed him. All he thought about when he saw Silly baby was how angry he was, how fucking pissed he was at them, and she was ecstatic to see him, they were happy just to smell him. He felt like shit.

“- and it just reminded me of my child years. All the happy memories of chasing you and my mom glaring at me from the side, mentally telling me to be gentle with you or else I’d be in a lot of trouble. It was like- I don’t know how to explain it.”

He pulled Derek’s hand into his, trying to give him some comfort. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I never really felt at home anywhere once we left. It was just the three of us and our uncle who could no longer speak or move. And when Cora came back smelling like you it felt like we were finally home again.”

“And I know that you were mad at me, I could smell it on you after you were attacked and I thought to myself that I’d rather have you hating me than not have you at all.”

Stiles swung their hands, walking together side by side like it was the most natural thing he could do. He heard the crunch of dead leaves with each step and thought about what Derek had just said. “I didn’t hate you. You must know that. I just- I was so hurt that you left me, and my father still hadn’t really recovered from losing my mom.” Deep breath in, it doesn’t hurt that much to talk about her. “So for awhile I was alone. Sure, my father was there but when he looked at me it was if he was looking through me and searching for her. I just turned that hurt into anger.”

Derek stopped walking and faced Stiles. Worry making his eyebrows look angry. “I’m so sorry you spent all that time hating me.”

Stiles looked past him, into the horizon of the trees, hoping that the lack of eye contact would make him feel better, make everything easier to talk about. “My hatred didn’t focus on you solely.”

“Who did you really hate then? Your father?”

He laughed, still looking at the tree line up ahead, noticing they weren’t around any colored tassels, nothing to interrupt them. “I could never hate my father. No, I hated myself mainly.”

He refused to look down at his arms, his constant reminder of how much he really hated himself.

Derek pulled him along, he didn’t speak and didn’t look at him. They were still strangers deep down. They had changed since they were children and they had lived completely different lives from each other. But here he was, holding hands with this man who he didn’t really know but trusted implicitly. There were years of shared memories between them. They could figure out everything else later.

******************************

Laura was beautiful. There was no other way to put it. She was elegant, perfect, and had this air of regality about her. Underneath that she looked very similar to Derek with her dark long hair and piercing green eyes. She was tall, lean, and embraced him as if he were a poor child that she rescued from certain death. She held his face in her hands and pulled him in for another hug, her face resting against his shoulder.

With her mouth pressed against his ear she whispered, "I've missed you so much," and then pulled back to smooth down his hair, like a mother would. "I can't believe you aren't chubby."

In the background he heard Derek shout. "That's what I said!"

Stiles smiled, embarrassment making him uncomfortable but he was too taken by her too look away. She was too perfect, she was exactly how he had imagined her as an adult, and she was still just as loving as he'd remembered.

From out of nowhere he heard another voice chime in to the conversation. "I told you he wasn't fat anymore!"

When Laura pulled away from him he finally saw Cora. She looked a lot like Laura but still had an air of childlike wonder around her, maybe it was the baby fat that she still had in her cheeks, or maybe it was the way he saw her eyes sparkle that gave her that childlike nature. She had dark eyes and dark hair but was lean and fiery.

She ran to him and he was able to pick her up in a twirling hug. "Silly baby, I've missed you so much."

He felt Cora cling to him, her arms tight against his waist, squeezing his insides. "I can't believe you're here."

When he set her down he was finally able to see their little cottage. It was perfect for them, big windows for the light to get in, open spaces for them to spread out, books and herbs lining every shelf in their house. It was spacious and secluded and perfect. He imagined them growing up in this house, a lot of yelling and laughing but knew that probably wasn't possible. His father told him that their house was destroyed by hunters. Their memories of home lived only inside of them.

Cora still had her hand around his waist. She reached out and flicked his ear. "I've wanted to do that for so long."

There was something different between Derek and his sisters. Something obvious that he was missing but he didn’t care he was just so thrilled to be here. To be surrounded by his friends.  

Laura turned to Cora. "Don't hit him! He's a guest and mom is literally going to rise from her grave and knock you senseless for hitting the Stilinski boy."

They all laughed in unison, the easy camaraderie, it was so easy and natural for them to speak about their dead mother. It was so foreign to him, whenever he thought about his mother he would cry, he would have a surge of nerves and run off for days. He was so jealous that they were able to talk openly about their mom.

They were doubled over laughing when Derek spoke. "I would accidentally knock him down and get in so much trouble, oh divines! I was always in trouble for making him cry!"

Stiles was now starting to feel offended by their jests at him. “Hey!”

Cora tightened up her face, pointed her finger and him and with a tone that must have been mimicking their mother, "he doesn't heal like you do. You can't just push him or play rough with him. If he breaks his arm he'll be in pain for a long time."

They all laughed together. Tears forming in Derek's eyes.

Stiles tried not to laugh at their laughter but couldn't help it, he kept trying to stifle it while he watched Laura and Derek clutch their ribs and wipe tears from their eyes, Cora bent over and slapping her knees.

He stopped laughing and just watched them laughing and enjoying themselves. Stiles had never ached for a sibling more in his life. Laura, Derek, and Cora were able to grieve their mother together, they were able to laugh and share memories and make the hurt diminish because there was another person who had the same memories of that person, in a motherly sense. Sure, his father and him had shared memories of his mother and they both loved her dearly but his father was in love with her and it was his mother. A sibling can understand the ache and the pain but then laugh about how mean she was sometimes. That’s what they were able to do. Collectively laugh and cry about the same woman who meant the same thing to each of them.

It was beautiful.

They continued laughing until Laura finally spoke with labored breaths, "we've missed you, Stiles. You always made us laugh so much."

He scoffed. "Yeah, because you were making fun of me!"

They all laughed harder.

He took a seat at the table in the middle of the living area and pouted.

Laura stared at him, her eyes sparkling with tears from laughing too hard. "I thought for sure he was going to be chubby!"

Derek finally broke and tilted his head to look at Stiles. "Okay, stop making fun of him," but still kept letting the laughter erupt out of him like he couldn't help it.

Stiles finally noticed what was different. He faced Cora and asked, "why don't you have an accent like Derek?"

Cora and Laura laughed even harder. Cora fell to the floor yelling.

Derek came and sat down next to him. "Hey! Stop it! I can't help it."

Laura sat down next to Derek, grinning, "he didn't start talking until he was way older than a normal child."

Derek's demeanor changed and he turned pale. A terrified expression seeping into his features and suddenly he heard him telling Laura to shut up under his breath.

Stiles was now genuinely curious. "Laura!" he urged her, "tell me!"

Cora was suddenly by his side, hand cupped around her face and her mouth pressed against his ear. "He'd stay as a wolf for days on end because he wouldn't get to see his 'Stily'."

Stiles snapped to look at Derek and felt his eyes growing as he stared at him. The cute name touched something deep within his soul and he wanted Derek to admit it so he’d know for certain it was true.

Derek yelled, "Cora stop!" And began turning bright pink. Now Stiles knew that what Cora had said was true and Stiles couldn’t stop smiling.

It was hard to speak with the smile that spread across his entire face. But he turned to Derek, "you use to stay as a wolf until you'd see me?"

Then Laura started talking again, "he'd stay as a wolf because he thought it meant he'd see you. And when mom would forced him to shift he'd keep asking, 'when we see Stily?', but this was when he was about 6 seasons old, so it was really concerning.

Derek was clearly embarrassed over stiles pointing it out. He wished he could squeeze his hand and say that it was cute and that he couldn't help himself whenever he heard it. He loved that it came out whenever he was flustered or happy, that it meant that he was overwhelmed with a particular emotion. He loved that little accent and wouldn’t change it.  

He tried to send him a smile that would convey that message but Derek wasn't looking at him, he was just staring at the floor, embarrassed.

Cora smacked Derek on the shoulder, "he got much better once he started to realize that it was very inconvenient to be in wolf form forever.” She wagged her thumbs in front of her face and muttered, “no thumbs.”

“But he never grew out of his little accent," she said with a smile.

Laura must have sensed how downtrodden Derek was. "In Derek's defense," Laura began, "we would always do weird things so we could get to see you more."

Derek finally looked up with a smirk on his face. "I caught Cora writing you a love letter once."

A roar erupted from Cora and she shouted, "you asshole!" Then she got up and ran to where he was sitting and threw herself on him, tickling his neck and poking his ribs. 

Everyone laughed until their stomachs hurt and they eventually had to stop or risk getting sick all over themselves.

Cora got up first, straightening her blouse and running her fingers through her hair. "I'm going to go get Isaac, so he can meet stiles. If that's okay?"

Derek and Laura nodded.

Stiles slid closer to Derek and gave his thigh a slight squeeze. And Derek leaned over to whisper in his ear, "I hope this isn't making you too uncomfortable."

His hot breath sent shivers down his body and because Derek is a perceptive wolf, he did it again, "do you like it when I whisper in your ear?"

He nodded, trying to not seem so eager even though he was craving his touch.

And then Cora sauntered back into the room with an extraordinarily tall, blonde boy who was probably closest to Cora's age. She pointed to him, this newcomer, and said, "this is Isaac,"  and Isaac gave a wave to stiles who then waved back. He could tell that Isaac was very uncomfortable with meeting him. Cora smiled brightly, staring into his eyes. "He's a friend we made when we got here." He noticed that Cora tried her hardest not to touch his hands or stare too long at him. He could tell that Cora found him attractive.

Laura laughed and went over to Isaac to ruffled his hair, a smile finally taking place on his face, his blue eyes illuminating and shining. "Stiles is harmless. No need to worried around him."

He wondered if he was a wolf.

Stiles watched Cora clutch his waist a little tighter. “Isaac came to us when when first came back to the Hills. Said he was turned and then left to die. He doesn’t know who did it, like your friend.”

He was now very intrigued by him, he leaned forward from his chair, his hands in prayer under his chin. “Where were you bit?”

Isaac’s fingers twirled in his hands. “At the bottom of the Hills? I don’t really remember the exact location.”

Derek nudged Stiles, like he understood what Stiles was thinking.

Stiles nudged back. “I wonder how many other people are living out in the woods who were bitten and left to die.”

Derek nudged him again. “We better be on the lookout for that as well as the hunters.”

Stiles looked at Derek, this man who looked so much older, with his soft tunic, and his disheveled hair and felt some bubble inside of him, something warm that spread through his body and ignited a fire under his ribs. This Derek who came back despite everything he believed for so long. He looked at this Derek and felt so happy despite the terrible circumstances.

********************************************

There's a sort of thrilling sensation walking through the woods with a wolf at your side. Especially when the wolf is one of the biggest wolves you’ve ever encountered. He remembers Derek as being a big wolf when he was little but now, it was unbelievable. He felt powerful with Derek trailing next to him, like there was nothing that could cause them harm. If anyone saw him they would think Derek was terrifying but actually Derek was a giant sheep's-brain when he was a wolf. He would stop and stare at squirrels in the trees, and if there was something shiny or reflected light- Derek was chasing it in a second.

"If anyone sees you, run. Okay?" He whispered to Derek.

Derek gave a growl which he knew meant no.

Stiles rolled his eyes hoping Derek could see that. "I'm being serious. If you hear the hunters approaching and there's nowhere for us to hide, you need to run."

Derek looked up to glare, his amber eyes reflecting the sunlight and then growled again.

Stiles was starting to get impatient. "I can't protect you if someone catches us," then ran his fingers through the fur on top of Derek's head, "I only know how to protect myself."

Derek leaned into stiles touch and trotted ahead of him to lead the way.

He stared at Derek for a while watching him sniff at butterflies, chase the chipmunks, and pounce on the softest grass. Then after realizing that he had been staring for too long he had to physically turn his eyes away from admiring him as he stalked through the woods and focus on what was ahead.

The air was murky and tasted like the soft dirt that was found next to swamps but there was no swamps, in fact, there was no water in this barren landscape. Up ahead, he noticed that there was a fog slowly creeping along the floor of the untouched woods and it sent a chill down his back and into his limbs, making him slow his pace down.

Derek’s ears perked up and his head dropped low and Stiles could tell that he was listening intensely for something up ahead. Derek began trotting up farther and farther away from him and he had to struggle to keep up with his erratic movements and sudden direction changes. The ground underneath his feet was getting soggier with each step he took, until it became completely moist and unrelenting so that every time he took a step he had to yank his boot out of the soft forest growth.

“Derek! Hey, Derek! Wait for me!” He yelled with a whisper not wanting to disrupt any of the wildlife that lurked around the area, or the people that might be quietly waiting to devour him in the shadows.

Derek ignored him, clearly on a hunt of his own, and suddenly he couldn’t hear any of Derek’s grunts or movements. He was now clearly aware of how alone he was in this overwhelming environment.

His boots sloshed underneath him- sticking and unsticking in the mossy and muddy growth, his line of sight only able to go so far. He desperately tried to gain momentum in his movements, so he could catch up to Derek or at least get to a part of this section of the woods that he could see clearly. It wasn't close to nightfall but the darkness crept along the edges of the trees like they were anticipating the pitch blackness of the night.

“Fuck,” he muttered out loud. He looked down at his feet but couldn’t see anything because the fog covered them completely and he heaved out a sigh cursing Derek and his wolf paws.

Derek would come back for him once he was done hunting, he thought to himself.

He had to.

He trudged through the mud, the smell getting more sour the deeper into the woods he went. He used his tunic to wipe away the sweat under his nose and block the smell for a moment but it still permeated through. He thought to himself, maybe it would be best to trudge through a little further, maybe it would begin to clear if he kept moving forward.

“Derek!” he hissed. His voice echoing through the trees like a soft whisper from a god. “Please, Derek!” His pleas unheard, or maybe ignored.

So he kept moving, unwilling to let the nerves even surface, he refused to acknowledge the drop he felt in his stomach. Instead of noticing his nerves he began reciting the chant his mother told him when he was a child, “the wolves will guide you home, my darling.” Then bent down to pull his boot out of the mud and slipped it back on. “The wolves will keep you near.” Another step, “The wolves will protect you from the woods.” Stiles scoffed, realizing that Derek had left him alone in the woods. Then remembered that he was an alchemist and could defend himself, really. The muck was just making him irritated, “there’s nothing for you to-”

And then there was a scream and without any hesitation he started running towards the sound, not bothering to pick his boots back up once they had been absorbed by the mud and not thinking about what he was running to. He had flames sitting in his palms and was about to attack when Derek suddenly jumped out of the fog, naked and no longer a wolf.

Stiles screamed and then bent down to breathe, his heart rate askew. “You bastard!”

Derek was naked and panting and Stiles made sure to avert his eyes away from below the waist. Derek rolled his eyes, grabbed for his hand and started tugged him towards his chest. In an instant he was thrust onto Derek's back and began running back to whatever had made him scream. Derek's hands gripped his thighs tightly as he bounced roughly against his back. His backbone rubbing him painfully. "I found another wolf."

"What?"

Once Derek stopped running, he pushed him off of his back without any delicacy. He maneuvered to where he could stretch his back and had the urge to complain. "That was extremely unpleasant."

Derek who was looking at the ground and brushing the burrs out of his leg hair looked up to smirk at him. "It would've taken until morning for you get this far on your own." Then he pushed him and started walking towards a section of trees that had no mud near them.

Stiles rolled his eyes and followed Derek.

Derek stopped and nudged stiles with his shoulder for him to go ahead.

In the shadows between a bunch of bristled branches laid, what he believed was a man, but more closely resembled a corpse in rags and covered in blood. This person wasn’t facing him, he could only see the back of a tunic and boots poking out from the bushes.

Stiles held out a hand and gently laid it down on the person's back, still warm and with a beating heart. He spoke softly, “It’s okay now, we’ll get you out of here and we’ll get you back home. No need to worry now.”

The figure shifted so he could finally see a face and Stiles fell backward, “Boyd?”

Boyd’s dark skin was sallow and hanging off of his bones, barely recognizable compared to his usual, healthy self. Boyd was a very tall and muscular man, he helped run his parents farm and after his sister’s death he was the only one that kept everything running for them. He was Stiles’ neighbor and friend. Well, Boyd more or less thought of him as the awkward neighbor kid who followed him around frequently, but he was never rude or impolite to him.

Stiles was trying to get him to respond to any of his simple requests but Boyd couldn't. His eyes never focused, always shifting and looking for something and was shaking violently, mumbling nonsense, and trying to get away from Stiles like he was going to hurt him.

Derek handed him the water pouch and Stiles pushed it to Boyd’s mouth and forced him to take little sips. Boyd seemed to relax after a few tries with the water.

Derek bent down next to Stiles and whispered, “we have to go hide. It’s almost nightfall.”

Stiles nodded and put his hands under Boyd's head so he could be lifted up. “We are going to find a good place to sleep, alright?" Boyd started getting irritable again and tried to shield his face. "Don’t be afraid of Derek, he’s just a big soft baby.”

Derek stepped on Stiles’ foot and he let out a yelp.

Boyd resisted being carried by Derek. He hit, bit, and thrashed to the best of his abilities but it wasn’t enough to make Derek even flinch. Boyd was deathly ill and Stiles felt like they were taking him to shelter just to watch him die.

Derek walked slowly in front, searching areas that could accommodate three grown men. Derek held Boyd in his arms like he was an infant while Stiles looked in different nooks and crannies in the cliff sides.

Finally there's a narrow crevice that seemed to be larger once inside and Stiles helped Derek pull Boyd in. He watched as Boyd staggered for a few steps and then laid right back down. He went over to where he had collapsed and picked his head up to force him to drink more water. He needed more water. He bent down and whispered like he would to a little child, “hey, Boyd. I need you to drink more water, okay?”

Boyd refused and shut his eyes. Stiles placed his head carefully back on the ground and stood up next to Derek. “I hope he doesn’t die tonight.”

Derek leaned his head on Stiles’ shoulder and whispered, “he’ll be better by the first light tomorrow.”

That still didn’t bring him any comfort because he knew that Boyd was extremely close to meeting death. “How did you even know he was a wolf?”

Derek tapped his nose.

Stiles squirmed when he felt Derek’s breath on his neck, tickling him, and send shivers down his back. “Oh, you smelled him.”

Derek gave a quick nod.

He didn’t want to disturb the moment but he had to sit down because the exhaustion was becoming too much to bear. So incredibly exhausted. He was just tired of finding more and more bodies. He was disgusted that his best friend’s life had been altered and changed because he was bit while studying. He was upset that Derek’s life was destroyed by the hunters. He was pissed that his dad was forced to work more than anyone just to help the pieces of shit patrolling the Hills.

Stiles let his shoulders slump so Derek could get off of him and he could move to the cave wall. There was a bubbling of nerves that had nestled between his ribs but he was going to ignore that. He had to ignore it for now.

He slid down the wall, the rough rocks pressing into his back and scratching his tunic. Then watched Derek follow and sit next to him. Derek sat solemnly with his hands in his lap and all he wanted to do was reach over and hold them, give them a reassuring squeeze but his arms weren’t cooperating, he was too tired.

“I’m sorry that I left you behind earlier.”

Stiles glanced his direction for a moment then closed his eyes, exhaling loudly. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize.”

"Can I put my head back on your shoulder?"

Stiles huffed out a laugh and kept his eyes closed. "Of course."

Derek scooted closer and rest his head on stiles shoulder. He let the waves of exhaustion wash over him and he shut his eyes, hoping that he could sleep for a little while.

*********************************

There was no indication of how high in the sky the sun was when it rose but Stiles intrinsically knew that he'd slept longer than he should have. He groped around feeling for a blanket, pillow, or something but he couldn't find it. Only the musty cold ground and he then he remembered that he was sleeping in cave.

He rose from sleeping and tried his hardest to twist his head in such a way so the crick would leave his neck and bring some relief. When he looked to his side Derek was absent, a phantom warmth hanging on the side of his body from where Derek had been, and when he looked across the cave he noticed Boyd was gone as well. That worried him. _What if Boyd had died and Derek had to leave to bury him before the smell started to settle. What if Boyd had ran off at the first light? What if he had hurt Derek in some way?_ That wouldn't be possible, Boyd would never hurt anyone, ever.

Boyd was fiercely protective of those that were the weakest. He made sure that the bullies in any of the primary classes was held accountable, and would walk the smallest and most often bullied home so that no one could touch them.

He left the inner cave and stepped out into the sunlight, the bright light blinding him momentarily. When his vision came back he saw Boyd sitting on a rock close to where they’d slept and Derek standing in front of him with his claws extended. Stiles saw him retract and extend his claws and made Boyd mirror the act but he couldn't and stiles could tell Boyd was starting to get frustrated. Stiles let the relief and happiness flood inside of himself, Boyd was alive and well and getting subtly angry at Derek.

Stiles began to make his way over to them when Derek held up a finger signaling him to stop, so he did and turned around to examine any plants or herbs in the vicinity. He knew that Derek needed to bond with Boyd and see how far he was with his new wolf abilities. He needed to be sure that Boyd wouldn’t be a threat to others or himself before he could go back home.

There was an interesting array of plants growing in the pockets of the marsh that he couldn’t quite reach but was very interested in plucking and taking them back to Deaton’s office. They were colorful and short to the ground with fat stems that looked root-like. The leafs and flowers were orange and yellow with a green center. Root-like plants usually carried medical properties and he wished he’d gone back for his boots so he could trek through without fear of stepping on something poisonous or sharp. But, Alas! He left them behind and couldn’t go back to get them until Derek carried him on his back to where they were abandoned. ‘ _Damn_ ,’ he thought to himself, he really wanted those plants.

Instead, he had an idea and decided to lay on his stomach and reach as far as he could to see if he could grab it that way. The marsh hissed when the pressure of his arm laid on it sending bubbles out of the air pockets that laid underneath the surface. He muttered to himself to stretch a little more, just a little further, when all over a sudden he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

His head snapped to attention, no longer focusing on the plants. He turned abruptly and saw Boyd holding his boots in hand and a sheepish smile on his face.

Stiles felt the muscles in his chest release the breath he didn't know he was holding. He clutched his chest and fell back a little.

He watched Boyd throw the boots at his feet then walked through the marsh to grab the flowers that he'd been reaching for and hand them to Stiles without question. He looked down at Stiles with a smile playing on the edge of his lips, like he didn't want to be amused by him but he was. "Put your boots on. I want to talk to you and Derek for a moment."

Stiles watched Boyd walk away and noticed how much more alive he looked just after a night of sleeping under shelter and drinking some water. Boyd was always so muscular and rough that it was a little world shattering seeing Boyd shaking and afraid, and covered in blood. His father was going to be so pleased to know that Boyd was alive and that he'd be able to return home.

Once he thought about his father, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming urge to return home and be with his father again. He wanted to tell him about finding Boyd and hug him tightly and say that he missed him. He didn't like being separated from his father. It unsettled him whenever he thought about his father being alone for too long. If his father didn’t have Stiles he could start drinking again and then where would he be?

He slid his feet into the boots and felt the wet leather rub harshly against his ankles. He followed behind Boyd, limping most of the way since he didn’t want the leather to rub sores on his feet. When they returned to the entrance of the cave, Derek was waiting for them with one arm wrapped across his chest the other hand close to his mouth as he chewed on his thumb nail.

When he saw them he pushed himself off the wall and clapped Boyd on the shoulder. “I see you found the little miscreant’s boots.” Then he winked and Stiles felt it travel through his bones.

Boyd turned to face Stiles. “His boots were the most foul smelling thing in the marsh so it was no problem, really.”

He glared at them both.

Derek sat down on the boulder adjacent to where they had all been standing and Boyd followed suit. Stiles remained standing- he was still mildly offended.

Derek spoke first. “So, have you given any thought to joining my pack?”

“I really appreciate your offer but I really want to get back home. I want my parents to know I’m alive.”

“You can still join-”

“Derek, after I was bitten I heard the people who hurt me talk about having me infiltrate a pack and then I would be able to lead them to whoever took me in and they would slaughter all of the wolves. I can’t risk hurting you or your family like that.”

Stiles felt a chill run through his body that made him shudder. Stiles watched Derek and could see the hesitancy all over his features and knew that Derek wanted to reconsider.

Derek grunted and gave a little cough to clear his voice, “they thought you were dead, how would they be able to track you? How could they possibly find you?”

“There are trackers all over, there are hunters in every section of the Hills When there’s no body in the spot they left me to die in they’ll know to be on the hunt for me.”

“Then wouldn’t it be a good idea to stay hidden? To come home with me and not go back to your parents? They’ll make a big deal about your arrival. And then the hunters will come and kill all of you.”

Boyd’s eyes fell, he was defeated- Stiles knew better than anyone that once the threat of a patent's death came into the situation- no child would allow that to happen. “I can make them keep my arrival quiet.” The waver in his voice was a plea to Derek.

Derek sighed. “I won’t force you to come home with me but I do think it’s the safest option right now.”

Stiles understood why Derek felt this way and why it would be better for him to go with Derek and his family but the pleading part of Boyd made Stiles ache for his father. He couldn’t imagine not being able to go home and announce that he was back and safe. He sympathized with Boyd but he knew that Derek’s thoughts were right. He could see Derek’s argument and he knew that if Boyd wanted to keep himself and his family safe, he was going to have to go with him.

He glanced at Boyd and tried to convey sympathy into his tone. “We are working on a plan to get rid of the hunters once and for all. If you could go with Derek and impart whatever knowledge you have about the hunters to him then it’d be easier for us finish our plan.”

Boyd’s eyes flashed golden. “Stilinski, please. I just want to go home.” 

It was that inflection on the word home that made him upset. Boyd’s absolute desperation and absolute tiredness. He felt his back beginning to ache from standing and just wanted to get moving. “The more you can assist Derek and his sisters the easier it will be for us to destroy them.”

Boyd looked down at the ground.

“I know how you feel. I would be so upset if I was forced to stay away from my father for this amount of time so I can understand if you refuse to go to Derek’s but if you do decide to stay with him I will work my hardest to come up with a plan that will get you back home.”

He felt stronger with each word, more conviction oozing into his thoughts with each word. This is why he was fighting. So he could get these people back home, so they wouldn’t be tracked and hunted for the rest of their lives. So they more wouldn’t be forced to turn into something they weren’t born to be.

Stiles was charged. He needed Boyd to trust him and to believe that they could do this because they could. With everyone working together, they could do this. “I promise you, I will make sure you get home.”

Boyd’s facial muscles didn’t move. Stiles somehow knew he’d decided to go to Derek’s. He didn’t express anything other than indifference now. He didn’t even look up from the ground when he said, “fine,” then pushed himself off of the ground and began walking away.

Derek mouthed, “thank you,” to him and followed behind Boyd.

Stiles stood silently for a moment hoping that his promise to Boyd would be true. Because once he was left alone his strength in their plan and their purpose didn’t feel so secure.

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek's "accent" is a speech impediment because I needed him to have speech impediment because a lot of people still have them even as adults and yeah.
> 
> I know there are grammatical errors. It pains me.
> 
> (I can finally see an end in sight for this)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last paragraph of the chapter is self harm triggering. Please skip it if that's a trigger. I'll put a little ~~ so you know to skip it.

_There were dead fallen leaves being crushed from the bushes across from him and he instinctively knew Derek would be next to him at any moment, so he wiped the tears off of his face before he saw him approach.  He didn't want to look like a little baby in front of him and he didn't want to seem weak either. He was weak enough just by being human and he also had the added affliction of being also smaller, scrawnier, and skinner compared to him. It was nice to know that Derek didn't seem to care or notice that even though they were the same age, Stiles was much smaller than him._

_Derek saw him from across the stream and ran to him with a smile spreading across his face. Stiles looked down at the ground and rearranged his rocks so it would distract him from watching Derek._

_"Hi, Stiles."_

_Stiles looked up and smiled back. "Hi, Derek."_

_Derek took a seat next to him, scattering his rocks across the bank. "Are you feeling well?"_

_"Yes, I'm fine."_

_"You don't smell fine."_

_Stupid wolves. He glared at him and rolled his eyes, "then don't smell me."_

_"Stiles-", he said, sounding so defeated and sad for him._

_He hated pity. He hated being pitiful. He didn’t need Derek’s pity._

_His anger flared and now he wanted to know why they were even still friends? They weren’t the same, they were total opposites in everything they did and everything that they liked. "Why do you still see me? Your mother and sisters don't bother to come down anymore, so why do you? You know I'm always sad and upset and weird, why bother?"_

_He couldn't erase the memory of Jackson Whittemore calling him pathetic in the middle of arithmetic earlier. Then shouted it at him after class had been released. He had always called him weird but now it had progressed to pathetic. A dead mother, no friends, and random outbursts of nerves had finally made him pathetic. He didn't have the energy left to argue against him._

_Derek looked him, anger flashing across his eyes and turning them golden. "Because you're my best friend."_

_"But why?" There was an overwhelming sadness behind the question that he hoped Derek couldn’t hear. He wanted him to leave him just like everyone else, to see his weirdness like the kids in his class saw. He wanted Derek to leave him and get it over with. So he wouldn’t pity him any longer._

_"My mother can't bear to look at you yet," he said, staring at the ripples on the water from the soft flowing stream. "She says you look too much like her and that if she sees you it might be too much."_

_That was exactly how his father felt also. He use call him her doppelganger and say that, ‘he should be grateful that he got her looks and not his because she was much prettier than him,’ then he would ruffle his hair and send him on his way. Now, whenever his father looked at him he would cry, the soft silent tears that didn’t seem real, and excuse himself to go to sleep._

_"Stiles, it's okay that you're upset."_

_"No it's not!" he yelled rocking back and forth, trying to soothe himself. "It's not okay!"_

_Derek turned to level with him, his eyes searching for something in him. "Why are you behaving like this?"_

_"I'm already weak enough, I don't need to be sitting around crying as well."_

_A shocked expression spread across Derek’s face. "You aren't weak!"_

_Stiles let the anger blow out of him and the anguish wash over him, filling his bones like it belonged there. He pulled his knees to his chest and dug his fingers through his scalp tugging out the knotted hair that got in his way. "Just leave."_

_Derek scooted closer to him in defiance. "No."_

_Stiles buried his head against his chest and let the tears fall. His head was shielded by his knees but he knew Derek could smell it and it only made him feel even more embarrassed._

_Derek let Stiles cry for a moment, knees faintly brushing his, just to let him know that he was still there. When Derek finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper, "when you brought your mother down here and she couldn't remember my mother, she stayed in bed for days, crying."_

_Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, he didn't need to remember when his mom was at her worst. He didn't need it._

_"When she pulled herself out of bed she looked at me and my sisters and said that you were probably the strongest person she'd ever encountered. She couldn't believe that you never lost your mind over this." Derek let out a puff of air as if he were trying to calm himself. "At first I didn’t understand. You said she was sick, but you’d glance at her like you were worried she’d disappear and then you’d see something off and run to her and sit in her lap until she came back."_

_“My mother would come home from seeing you and sob and say that she couldn't believe how calm you remained whenever your mother asked who you were. Her own son. You would just hold your mother's hand and say, 'mother, I'm your son, Stiles' in the calmest tone, not expressing anguish or pain.”_

_He tightened his arms tightly around his legs squeezing them tighter to his body. He wanted Derek to stop._

_"My mom was only able to spend a little amount of time with your mother before she broke down crying." He paused, "Stiles, you took care of your mom to the very end. You fed her, made sure she had clean clothes, and made her at least feel like she was at home even though she had no idea where she was most of the time."_

_Derek's arm draped around his shoulders. "Don't ever say you're weak again because I know you. I know how strong you are. You didn't just watch your mother die, you eased her into death."_

_He felt Derek rock him slightly, his fingers combing down his hair from where he had messed it up earlier._

_"She got the disease when you were still a little boy and it took so many seasons of her being sick before she finally passed and you made sure you were happy everyday for your mother. Even when she screamed that she didn't know you or your father. You would just patiently sit by her, reading her stories and holding her hand."_

_Stiles didn't say anything he just remained still and quiet. He felt his lip quiver and felt the tears drip from his eyes but he made no movement to wipe them away, he just let them fall. He had to pinch himself every time he felt the urge to sniffle or scream. "You're not weak just because we look different. Wolves just develop faster. Don't you think I feel weird looking like this?"_

_Stiles couldn't help but smile, his nose filled with snot and his throat rough from crying, but he still spoke, "stop trying to make me feel better."_

_Derek laughed, “you're still losing your milk teeth and I'm going to have a beard."_

_He felt a chuckle escape his mouth again._

_Derek squeezed the back of his neck and whispered, "please don't compare yourself to me. And don't ever call yourself weak."_

_He nodded, his face still nestled between his chest and legs._

_Derek shook him roughly, making his hands unclasp from around his legs and his eyes open. He had to blink away the tears a few times before he could see Derek, bright eyed and smiling. "Come on. I have something I want to show you." Then Derek brought his tunic to his hand roughly wiped at Stiles’ face._

_He pulled away from him pushing his arms away and laughing. "What are you showing me?"_

_Derek's eyes twinkled. "I brought bows and arrows."_

_Stiles could feel his eyes mirroring Derek’s. He pushed himself off the ground and ran with Derek through the stream and into the bushes where he knew they were stashed and waiting._

*****************************

“Son,” his father’s head picked up from writing and stared at him, “do you remember what Isaac’s last name was?”

He tapped his chin and thought back to his encounter with Isaac, then realized that he had never said his last name. He gave his father a shrug, “he never told me.”

His father looked back down to the parchment he was writing on, “I’ll just write Isaac’s name and place him in the unknown category.”

His father had been spending every spare moment compiling a list of all the missing people in all of the Hills and was seeing if any of the people were confirmed dead already or if they were still considered missing.

Stiles was creating a potion with the plants he found while finding Boyd in the woods. He wanted to give the boiled root mixture to Scott for his apothecary instructors so they could see if there were in medical properties in it. He turned to face the stove and stirred the mixture, watching it thicken. “How many are in the unknown category?”

“Over 30 people. Most of the people are either suspected to be orphans or so poor that their absence was a miracle for their parents.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It is, but the hunters executed their plan perfectly. They targeted the poor or the ones that didn’t have parents. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that Isaac doesn’t have parents and that’s why he was never reported as missing.”

“Isaac can’t even remember exactly where he was bitten.”

“Well, we don’t need to harass him yet, we need to find more information before we pressure him to talk about what happened.”

“I know,” then he sighed, ran his fingers through his hair, and dropped his head away from the boiling mixture, “I just want this to be over.”

He saw his father rise from his chair and come over to where he was boiling and put his hand on his shoulder. “I haven’t said it yet but I want you to know that I am so incredibly proud of you for finding Boyd and then convincing him to stay with Derek.”

He looked away from his father, “Derek was the one who found him. I didn’t really do anything.”

“You were out there. You were out there searching for this," then gestured to the air around him. "And you were out there searching for people. So you can’t say you did nothing.”

His father watched him stirring the mixture, staring at the thick brown bubbles coming from the old crusty pot. “Son, that looks disgusting.”

“Well father, your detective senses seem to be still intact because it is, indeed, disgusting.”

His father sighed loudly, then swatted him on the back of the head and went to sit back down and continue writing. The quill scratching roughly against the parchment with the swift movements of his writing. 

The writing stopped abruptly. “Does Derek have another younger sibling that went missing when they left the Hills?”

“No, I mean, I don't think he has another younger sibling. I feel like I would have known that. Why?”

There’s a name on the official police list of missing kids that says there’s been a M. Hale missing for almost six seasons.”

That perked his attention, another Hale? He stopped stirring and turned to face his father. “That’s interesting. I’ll ask Derek about it when I see him this evening.”

His father didn’t even look up, just kept marking the parchment, “where will you be searching tonight?”

He turned around to resuming the stirring. "The lake near Wedenergarten."

"Ah," his father said from behind him, "are there a lot of hunters near that area?"

Stiles lifted up the the spoon to smell the mixture that he'd brewed and noticed that it didn't smell like anything, it just looked disgusting. "I'm not certain. Laura suggested it since she noticed that there had been a lot of activity in that area." He wanted to taste the mixture but knew that'd be very stupid, especially since he hasn't had Scott to look at it yet. "I think we are trying to find more people that have been turned and left to die."

His father paused, his quill tapping against his head. "Oh, I see."

He heard his father shuffle behind him, the the chair being pushed across the floor and clothes ruffling. He turned to see his father putting on his official Beacon cloak and gathering his things for work.

His father gathered his scrolls and turned to him and asked, "when will you be back?"

"I think I'll stay the night at Derek's and leave at first light so that I can go to Deaton's and open the office."

A fond smile spread across his face, he walked over to where Stiles was standing and embraced him. His father's scent surrounding him and he had to force himself to remain calm. He clapped his father on the back and squeezed a little tighter hoping that his father knew how much he loved him. This simple hug was his father's way of expressing worry without wanting to be obvious about it. So he hung on to him, not wanting to let go, not wanting to let his father think that he didn't take this seriously. He just wanted to express how much he loved him and how much he meant to him.

His father released him and pulled back to study him for a moment.

There was the beginnings of soft folds of skin around his mouth and eyes. It seemed to have appeared over night without him ever noticing. His blue eyes studied him for a moment then gave up and he smiled.

"That seems like the safest option."

Stiles just laughed and said, "I always choose the safest option for you, Father."

The scroll came up and smacked him before he could defend himself against it.

"Ow! Father!" And rubbed the spot where he was smacked.

Stiles could still hear him chuckling as he shut the door behind him.

Sure, his father was getting older but he was still a wily ass most of the time.

*************************

Stiles always knew that there was something wrong with his mind. He always nervously twitched in arithmetic, never wanted to play with Scott after school, and never had that real need to leave home and his father like all of the other people his age. There had always been something off about him even before his mother had died. But Scott was one of the only people he knew who didn’t care and accepted him for all of his flaws.

The first time Stiles met Scott he knew that he was destined for something more than the Beacon. He always spoke of practicing apothecary and wanting to help the little kids that couldn’t afford the medicines they needed.

Thinking about Scott only made him miss his best friend even more. Especially on days like today, when he's just sitting in the open air messing with the wild plants in meadows. Stiles would pick something and Scott would always delicately grab it and hold whatever it was in his hands and identify each flower, petal, grass, weed for him. He would also do most of the talking on days when Stiles didn’t feel like speaking. Scott knew when he had bad days and that when Stiles ran away from him he knew not to not take it to heart.

Whenever he came back to his normal, or somewhat normal self, Scott would sit next to him, elbows brushing his and tell him stories from his childhood. Scott’s dirty hands gesticulating with every new sentence that he spoke. Stiles’ favorite was always the story of Scott going to his grandmother’s farm and being forced to milk the goats. While he was milking them his grandmother explained that this is what happened to mommies whenever they had babies too, and Scott letting go of the goat, genuinely asked if his mom turned into a goat when she had him.

His grandmother never made him milk a goat again so Scott truly appreciated his own ignorance. Stiles picked up a milkweed pod and laughed at the memory of Scott telling him. 

He plucked out the furry seeds that were still trapped in the pod and threw it as far as he could. He wanted his best friend to come home, damnit. He wanted to spend lazy days in the sun picking poppies and trying to find sweet clovers, he wanted to see Scott’s crooked jaw and awkward laugh, he really missed his best friend.

The rune on his spine tingled with energy and he instinctively looked up to the sky knowing that there must be a change in the weather. The sky was beginning to darken and churn with the black clouds folding over each other making the sounds of a forming storm.

He looked back across the meadow and saw a black wolf staring at him from across the field. Stiles got up and ran to him.

"Hi, Derek," he said as he stroked his fingers through the hair behind his ears.

His ears perked up and then stared at the sky, sniffing the air. He gave a whine and trailed off into the woods, he glanced back at Stiles and stared at him like he was waiting for him to follow.   

He trailed behind Derek, watching him get distracted by every little noise and bug that scurried along the ground. He couldn’t stop thinking about Scott and when he’d be home. He wanted to know if Scott enjoyed being a wolf now or if it hindered his life and his dreams. Derek was born into this, he had no choice in the matter, but Scott did. He hoped that Scott found use for his new abilities and enjoyed being able to sense things, smell things, turn into a wolf, and act like a playful puppy.

Derek turned to face Stiles and waited for him to catch up, he ducked down to crawl under some low hanging branches and waited for Stiles to do the same. Derek’s ears twitched and he saw that Derek was listening for something. He gave a low growl and and stalked along towards whatever he was hearing.

Suddenly, he could hear voices in the distance laughing and splashing. He hoped it was just some regular citizens enjoying the lake before the storm rolled in and not who he was assuming was out there.

But the nagging logic in his mind knew that most people who lived in the area would never venture this deep in to the woods because the hunters have told everyone for so long that the woods are dangerous and the wolves are out there waiting to murder and eat your flesh.

He had to get closer so he could listen to what they were saying.

Stiles tugged Derek’s tail to get his attention. He swiveled around and gave him a growl and Stiles just rolled his eyes and pulled his face closer to his.

“Listen to me,” he whispered, “I’m going ahead.” Derek shook his head.

Stiles was going to get him to listen to him no matter what. There were too many possibilities of them being murdered if Derek didn’t get behind him. “Derek please stop and listen to me.”

Derek’s eyes flashed gold.

“I’m going in front. I can protect myself but I can’t protect you. I need you stay behind me and let me attack if there’s anything that I need to attack.”

Derek dropped his head low and refused to make eye contact with him.

Stiles stood up and walked past Derek to be in front of him and crouched low so the branches and undergrowth shielded him from whatever was in the Lake in front of them. They sat down and strained to hear the conversation playing out before them.

He could hear Derek’s panting behind him and he tried to steady his own breathing so the heartbeat pounding in his head would stop. He took a few calming breaths and waited for Derek to stop licking his lips and panting directly in his ear.

There were mainly male voices from what he could hear but he wasn't going to assume anything.

Stiles turned to Derek and whispered, "I always thought that if you swam in stagnant water, you'd get ill."

Derek gave him what could be assumed as a shrug and Stiles turned back to face the lake. It was common knowledge amongst the natives of the Hills that stagnant water was deadly and that bathing in it could kill you in an instant. Stiles couldn’t help but smile at the thought of these hunters dying because of severe diarrhea.

Soon the heartbeat in his ear diminished and Derek was no longer panting so he could hear the conversation.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just kill all the little mutations now? It sucks that we have to spend most of our daylight hours keep them restrained.”

“Because, we need these mutations to lead us to the rest that live within the Hills. We also need these mutations to experiment on.”

“That’s the truth. If it weren’t for few of those little monsters we would have never figured out how to kill them without all the dramatic fire.”

“I just am having my doubts about the original wolves. I doubt they’re here.”  

“This has been going on for so long, Daehler, and we haven’t found any trace of the original wolves who ran through the Hills.”

“They’re out there. Argent is sure of it and there’s more than just the original family we found, there’s a lot more.”

Stiles turned around to stare at Derek, hoping that none of these comments were affecting him. He saw him staring up at the sky, documenting the dark clouds coming closer and Stiles couldn’t imagine a world where people hated him for who he was. For something he couldn’t control.

He wasn’t a mutation, he was Derek, beautiful and peaceful Derek.

Stiles turned his focus back to the lake and felt the hatred for these ignorant people boil in his blood. These people should die, they should die in a horrendous way. Just to make up for all of the murders they’ve probably assisted or performed on some innocent child.

He felt the rage burn and the rune on his arm sizzle in response to his emotions.

Derek pressed his cold nose against Stiles’ arm and laid his body weight against him. If he didn’t know any better he thought that Derek was trying to calm him down. He looked down into Derek’s amber eyes and gave him his biggest smile, then he kissed the top of his head and scooted further out towards the lake. He watched as Derek panicked behind him, not knowing whether to follow him or to stay hidden. The turmoil playing on Derek’s face was close to making him burst with laughter.

He pulled his finger to his lips and shushed him. He wanted to tell him that it was okay but he couldn’t say anything without giving away their location to the hunters. He shook his head and motioned for him to stay low.  

Stiles knew what he was going to do before he stepped out of the bushes without Derek. He knew he was going to kill these people. He counted four different voices and hoped that all four of them were in the water and had no intention of getting out any time soon.

He crawled on all fours until he was close enough to the lake to where he could stick his hands in the water without touching the bottom. He observed the moss and algae growing on the surface and the faint smell of death that clung to the top of the lake as well. These hunters were going to get sick if they survived what Stiles was going to do. He shoved his finger into the soft mud a drew a triangle next to the right side of his body. He knew this was going to be a big incantation so he needed to draw as much power from another source as he possibly could before performing this.

He drew another and another until triangles were completely surrounding him.

Keeping his body low to the ground he sunk one hand in the earth and eased the other hand into the water. This was an experiment that could end in getting himself blown up or killed by hunters. Either way, he wasn’t going to sit by and watch these people brag about their murders behind the eye of the public. He was going to kill them and he was going to do it without leaving any evidence.

He swallowed the nerves back down into his stomach and shoved his hand into the soft mud. Then he began to pull the energy from the earth. It took everything he had in his body to pull this energy from the earth and felt like he was lifting a weighted block as he pulled and pushed more energy into the fire runes that surrounded him. His body became heavy with the weight of the unshed energy and with the power that surged around him.

Hie eyes began watering and he could tell that his body was beginning to create heat that would burn him if he didn’t get it out of him soon. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he had to push himself not to groan with the energy that coursed through him. As soon as it became too much to bear he spoke the incantation for fire and pushed it into the lake, trying with everything he had to heat the lake at a rapid pace.

He pushed the energy and pushed the surrounding runes to their limits until he could send the boiling water towards the hunters.

Once the water was boiling he shot towards the hunters that were stationed in their little alcove away from where Stiles sat. He shoved the water with a grunt and watched as it traveled to them, the bubbles boiling and moving across the lake at a rapid pace.

Stiles realized that his hand burned and throbbed with pain but he kept it in the water to try and keep its momentum moving towards the hunters.

After a moment he heard a shout. “Oi, I think this water is burning!”

And then the screams of terror and pain filled the air around the lake. The water making waves where the hunters were struggling to escape the boiling water that covered their bodies.

Stiles smiled to himself once he no longer felt vibrations from the water. He slowly pulled his hand from the murky water and finally saw the damage he had inflicted on himself.

His hand no longer had the fleshy pink skin on his hand and was red and oozing blood from all over. The air stung and trying to cradle it on his tunic proved unbearable. He laid down next to the triangles and struggled for air, the pain overwhelming him all at once.

He heard Derek run from the bushes as soon as he collapsed on the ground. He slid on his knees to grab him, his hands running up and down his torso feeling for injuries.

He lifted his head up slightly. “It’s my hand,” he managed to utter before letting his head loll back to lay on the ground.

Derek didn’t touch it at first, he just stared at it like he’d never seen anything as horrific as this. Derek’s face made his nerves swell and his pain more intense. Stiles banged his head against the ground, trying to knock himself unconscious or punish himself for being so careless with his alchemy. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped that maybe he’d go unconscious from the pain soon.

He felt Derek carefully stroke his hand above the burnt skin and grasp firmly where no burning had occurred on his forearm. Stiles finally opened his eyes and turned his head to watch the black lines on Derek’s arm appear from where he began to suck the pain right out of his hand.

The urgency of Stiles pain faded into a dull ache and he could finally catch his breath after a moment of Derek easing his pain.

Derek stared down at Stiles, “this isn’t healing you. We have to get you back so Laura can help before it becomes infected.”

Stiles groaned.

Derek dropped his voice down, soothing him and coaxing him like he was a child. “I know that it hurts but I’ll keep my hand on you the entire time.” He stroked Stiles unharmed hand, “I’ll try to keep the pain as minimal as possible.”

Stiles nodded and pulled himself up. He noticed how unsteady he was and couldn’t find a way to get his balance. He stumbled and almost fell until Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Derek stared at him, his forehead beading with sweat and his eyes scanning his face. “Stiles, what’s wrong?”

Stiles couldn’t move, his legs felt like they were no longer attached and the energy faded away like he was losing the blood that coursed through his body. He fought to find Derek’s tunic with his good hand and struggled to hold on to him, “Derek, I can’t-”.

Black swarmed around the edge of his vision until he could no longer focus. The trees in front of him blurring together into one green looking mass. He closed his eyes and let himself succumb to the darkness.

**************************

Stiles woke up to yelling and banging.

“Derek! Get away from him.”

“Laura, can’t you see he’s in pain!”

“Of course he’s in pain, you ass! He burnt off all of the skin on his hand!”

“Then I need to take the pain.”

Stiles smiled. He never thought that waking up to the sound of Derek and Laura fighting would ultimately be his favorite thing to wake him but he now knew that it was.

From behind him he heard Cora shout, “he’s waking up!”

Stiles finally opened his eyes and saw three pairs of eyes staring down at him.

He pulled up his arm to shield himself from them and caught sight of a bandage covering the entirety of his hand.

Laura caught his forearm before it came close to his face and pushed it back down to his chest. “It has a very special salve on it,” she said, “If you keep yourself from messing with it then it will probably be fully healed in 5 nights of sleep.”

Stiles tried to wiggle his fingers in the clothed bandage but they were trapped and forced to stay still. He wanted to know how he got here, how he managed to forget most of the events that had transpired earlier. He looked to Derek, “what happened to me?”

Derek coughed and uncrossed his arms, his eyebrows scrunching together, “you performed a, I’m guessing, extremely dangerous alchemy incantation and burnt your hand and completely drained yourself of energy.”

Stiles stared at him, he vaguely remembered that. He remembered performing a big incantation and burning his hand but not what happened after that. “So what happened to me?”

Cora thrust herself into his line of vision, “you fainted, you big sheep’s brain!”

Stiles closed his eyes and sighed. Of course he fainted. Of course he wasn’t powerful. He was just a small, lanky boy who had a grasp of what alchemy was. He’d never be powerful like the alchemists he read about.

Cora shook Stiles violently, forcing him to open his eyes. “He said it was one of the most unbelievable things he’d ever seen.”

Stiles turned to Derek, his spirits picking up at the compliment, “really?”

“Yes,” Derek said as he faintly blushed and turned his eyes away from Stiles, focusing instead on the living room that they were in. He remembered the exact details of the living room from his last trip to Derek’s house. The warmth that radiated in this home was palpable and Stiles loved the feeling in here.

Stiles decided to scoff at the compliment, “it wasn’t that amazing. I nearly lost my hand.”

“You almost killed yourself.” Laura said as she pinched shoulder frighteningly hard. He let out an a slight scream and she continued. “You haven’t trained enough to deplete your energy like that. Your body wanted to stop working because it was so exhausted.”

So that's what happened to him, that's why he fainted and why he couldn't remember how he got back. He didn't mean to nearly kill himself but he didn’t have the strength to argue, but he did feel the need to at least say that it was accidental. “I didn’t know that I would do that to myself.”

Laura stared at him dumbly, “you didn’t know that drawing an immense amount of energy from the earth and pulling it through yourself and into the water wouldn’t exhaust you?”

Derek elbowed his sister and Stiles shot him a quick grin. “Leave him alone, Laura.”

She threw her hands up, clearly exasperated, “fine.” She gave him another ridiculously hard pinch and left the living room.

Derek came and sat next to where he was laying in the living room. He finally realized that he was on a cot situated in front of the wood burning stove so he’d stay warm. The wolves didn’t realize that it was incredibly warm outside and he did not need anymore heat. It was precious that the wolves had no idea how a humans body worked.

Derek’s hand found the bandaged one and he began leeching the pain from it.

Stiles realized that being in this house, surrounded by the warmth and happiness that they exuded made the nerves in his stomach vanish. Even laying here in the middle of their living area with a bandage completely covering his hand, he felt safe and peaceful.

He closed his eyes and let out a moan of relief. Derek was taking away the throb that encompassed his entire hand. At least it wasn’t like the pain he experienced at the lake, this dull throb was nothing compared to that.  

Stiles felt the heaviness return to his eyes and he realized that he needed more sleep. “Der, you don’t have to take the pain. It doesn’t really hurt anymore.”

Derek shuffled closer to his cot, and clasped his uninjured hand in his. “I don’t want to see you in any sort of pain.”

Stiles opened his eyes to get a glimpse of his face that was concentrating so hard on leeching the pain he wanted to get his attention off of his injuries, he wanted Derek to look at him which he realized that he wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Hey, what’s wrong.”

He didn’t look up and just kept staring at the bandage on his hand. He saw Derek’s eye twitch and his nostrils flare. He began to worry him.

“Der?”

Derek snapped back to the conversation and began stroking his forearm again. “Oh, nothing. Nothing is wrong. I’m fine.” He said as he stroked the hair that dusted his arms.

Derek found some of the more prominent scars on his arm and began rubbing them delicately. Stiles squirmed once he saw what he was doing. He tried to tug his arm away but Derek held tight.

Stiles face heated with embarrassment and he struggled to pull his arm away from him without hurting the healing hand.

Derek let him go and Stiles pulled his tunic down to cover his scars, his constant embarrassment and his constant reminder of what was wrong with his brain. “Derek, why won’t you look at me?”

Derek let out a sigh and finally met Stiles eyes. He looked so sad and so defeated compared to how he was when Laura and Cora were harassing him. “Stiles, you killed those people.”

His words were caught in his throat. He struggled to find the precise thing to say that would convey the exact reason why he did it.  “Those hunters- Derek, they were-”

He couldn't finish what he wanted to say. He couldn’t really understand why he did it.The air was stiff around them, there was a tension that he’d never felt before. Derek pulled his hands off of him and stood up to face the stove. He’d never known a distant Derek or a passive Derek.

Stiles tried his best to sit up and try to follow him. The weight of the blanket on top of him mixed with his extreme exhaustion was making this hard for him. He felt trapped, like he was suffocating under his own weight, and all of a sudden the nerves hit and his heart started pounding rapidly. He needed to get out of here, he needed his father, he really needed his mother, too, but that was impossible.

In a moment Derek was next to him. stiles looks up at him and saw the his features were marked with concern. "Stiles, what's wrong?"

Stiles had to refrain from crying and instead muttered that he couldn’t breathe.

Derek carefully peeled the blankets off of him and helped him sit up. There was no affection in what Derek was doing, it was clinical and Stiles wanted to lean into his touch, maybe embrace him, but Derek was still too despondent. Derek sat on the cot next to him while he struggled to catch his breath, but never made a move to even glance in his direction.

“Derek, why are you mad at me.”

Stiles saw his spine go rigid from underneath his tunic as he slowly turned to look at him. His eyes weren’t as hard as they were a few moments ago but they’d finally softened a bit. It at least let him know that his Derek was still in there somewhere. “I’m not mad at you.”

Stiles scoffed. “You are! Please tell me what I did wrong.”

Derek broke the eye contact and turned around. He was getting so frustrated that all he wanted to do was lean over and shake him violently! “You did nothing wrong, Stiles.”

“I must have! You can barely stand the sight of me! Before Laura left you were friendly but now you can’t look at me!”

Derek stood up and began pacing. “When I leeched your pain just now it made me remember that you almost died in my arms yesterday. You almost died and you didn’t give me any idea of what I was supposed to do or how I could help you.”

He remembered telling Derek to be quiet and making sure that he remained undetected while he slowly took the energy from the earth and himself and fed it into the lake. “I didn’t know that would happen. I-I didn’t even know if it would work.”

Derek stopped pacing and sighed. He stared at the ground and Stiles resisted the urge to stand up and hold him. He wanted to but he knew he couldn’t. Seeing Derek sad and despondent was a terrifying sight. “Stiles, It was so easy for you to hurt yourself.”

Stiles had to protest. “I swear on my life that I had no idea that it would do that to me. Derek, I swear.”

Derek turned to Stiles, anger pulling at his usually docile features. Suddenly the air was charged with his anger and a darkness spread across the normally wonderful feeling room. “Stop lying! I can hear your heart!”

Stiles grabbed the tunic covering his chest pulling it away from his body, “I am telling you the truth!”

Derek just shook his head. “Your heart jumped when you said you had no idea. So deep down in the back of your mind you knew. You knew exactly what would happen.”

He wanted to yell at him and say he had no idea but Derek was right, he was sure that he knew in the back of his thoughts that something like this could happen. He may have not known that drawing the energy from the earth would nearly kill him but at the time he was so blinded with rage that the thought probably crossed his mind and he ignored it.

“I’ll admit that I probably knew it deep down but I promise I wasn’t actively trying to hurt by performing that incantation. Everything that happened to me was an accident.”

“Why were you so angry at them, Stiles? You didn’t even need to harm them.” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes slowly falling shut, “I got enough information just from listening to them.”

Stiles couldn’t believe that Derek wasn’t elated about their deaths, he wasn’t elated that he was closer to getting revenge and finally being free of them and could be who he was without fear of being murdered.

He felt the pressure building in his chest and had to force himself not to cry in front of him so instead, he yelled, “why aren’t you angry at them, Derek?” He had to take a deep breath to keep the tears down and then continued, “why aren’t you wanting to kill them? Why are you so willing to let them live and continue to murder innocent people? I am so mad they took you and your family away from me! I could kill every single hunter with that anger alone.”

The more Stiles seethed the more he could see that Derek was resuming his calm demeanor. He watched him quit pacing and finally look at him. He came over to Stiles and sat down next to him on the cot. He could see him trying to gather his thoughts and pull them into words. Stiles sat stoically staring at the wall across from him, it held all of the cooking utensils and different cutlery all scattered across the shelves and he wondered who did most of the cooking in the house. The thought of Cora cooking terrified him.

Derek’s calming voice rang out quietly in the space between them. “I hated them for a long time.” Then he laughed, “I had planned on murdering every single one of them as soon as I returned to the Hills.”

Stiles finally gathered up enough courage to glance over at Derek who was also staring at the same wall. They watched the sky fade to a deep blue for a moment before he spoke. “What changed?”

“Well, after hearing Laura lecture me for so many seasons, I finally listened to her. She told me that I had to learn that these people were horribly ignorant about what we are. Usually the people who join these organizations of hate are really uneducated and are looking for any way out of their current troubles.”

Now he was confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that most of the people who became hunters did so they could leave their poverty stricken lives and do something different. These- these hunters never went to school, they never knew of monsters in the forests they just listened to an Argent explain how their lives could be better because they’d be helping the public and it was an opportunity to better themselves so they took that opportunity.”

Derek threw his hands up. “I’m not trying to defend them, I’m not. I’m just trying to show you my reasons for not wanting to murder all of the hunters.”

Stiles scraped his fingers through his scalp and started twisting his tunic between his fingers. “I do understand what you mean, I do, but they’ll never change.”

The fabric began to cut off the blood to the ends of his fingers and Derek continued. “The other thing that changed my mind about killing all of them was smelling your scent on Cora the day she ran into you then and bumping into you on my way from the mill.”

His heart thrummed in his chest. “Why did that make you change your mind?”

“I just,” he sighed, “I looked at you and I kept thinking that I’d forgive any sin committed against me as long as you could be in my life again.” Then he turned to look at Stiles with a pleading, almost sorrowful look in his eyes. “I can live in the woods with my sisters and the random wolves we find, I can work in a mill, and I can pretend to be human like everyone else as long as you’re there with me.”

Stiles couldn’t help the overwhelmed feeling he had spreading from his fingers to his toes. He could feel the affection rolling off of him but still wouldn’t dare get close enough to touch him.

“So, when you’re nearly killing yourself over these inconsequential hunters, it made me angry. I just can’t fathom living in a world without you in it again.” Derek’s fingers trembled as he extended his hand to rest on top of his thigh. “I did it for so long and it was unbearable.”

He could feel the heat of Derek’s hand soak through his breeches and fill him with warmth. He smiled to himself and glanced down to see the hand that covered his knee.

“I’m sorry, Derek.”

Derek gave his knee a final squeeze and got up to shut off the stove. He walked towards the other end of the house and called out a final, “goodnight, Stiles. I’ll see you in the morning.” Then he heard a door softly shut behind him.

Stiles whispered, “goodnight, Derek.” and let the exhaustion pull him back to sleep, the pain in his hand completely forgotten.

*********************************************

The bandage only had to stay wrapped around his hand for five nights but his father made sure to lecture him every single moment they had together about the responsibility of protecting himself if he was going to perform dark alchemy again.  

Once the bandage came off, Ms. McCall and Scott came over to look at the wound and also berate him for being stupid and reckless and self-destructive.

Scott pulled him aside and forcefully pushed him into his bedroom without any grace or delicacy he told him that he talked to Allison and her father and that he needed some time before he could tell him everything.

“Why?”

“Stiles! I’m not going to ask why if he’s going to willingly give me information.”

“I just don’t understand why he has to wait.”

“Well, I think he wants to be part of the plan eventually. Maybe not an actual part but at least help as much as he can. Stiles, he hates these people and wants to bring them down just as much as us.”

“I still don’t understand why he couldn’t tell you what he knows but as long as you get it eventually, that’s good.”

Scott punch his shoulder. “I’m heading back to the bottom of the Hills and I’ll be meeting up with him and Allison,” then his eyes got that far away and dreamy look about them and Stiles had to roll his eyes, “while I'm  training with animals and we’ll look for anyone who’s been bitten or killed.”

"That's what Derek and I have been doing."

"No, you've been killing hunters with your amazing magical alchemy abilities."

Stiles stared at the wall. Letting the lines in the paint swirl together until they formed a solid mass.

"I can't believe you killed them!"

Stiles just shrugged and stared down at the ground.

Scott was wild though, he even gave a little hop and shook him roughly. "You killed these monsters! Why aren't you jumping up and down with me celebrating?"

"Don't tell my father okay, or your mother for that matter because they gossip too much but performing that type of alchemy almost killed me."

Scott stopped jumping immediately and stared at him. "Wait, you almost died?"

Stiles scuffed his shoes on the wood floor underneath him and nodded. "So, please don't tell your mother."

Scott faced him, his forehead crinkled with concentration. "I have a mind to go out there and tell your father right now. Stiles! How could you be so stupid? So reckless?"

Stiles reached out for Scott and grabbed his shoulders to shake them. As he shook Scott, who finally broke out his naturally goofy grin he spoke, “I realize this now and I've vowed to not be so self-destructive."

Scott smiled and grabbed his face his scrunched up features making Stiles laugh and try to pull away from him. “Okay. I trust you.”

Scott gave his face one final smack and turned to go back into the living area. Stiles followed and and returned to find his father and Mrs. McCall drinking tea at the table.

Scott went to kiss his mother on the head and squeeze his father’s shoulder. Ms. McCall’s eyes appraised Scott and she grasped his hand and brought it to her mouth for a quick kiss. She looked like she was trying to have a full conversation with him without using any words but then the moment passed and Scott smiled and said goodbye.

He gave a quick nod to Stiles. He returned the nod, Scott opened the door, waved a final goodbye to everyone and the door shut behind him.

Stiles watched Scott from the window as he moved across his yard. He wished he could be travelling with him, with his brother and friend, but he couldn’t. He had his own responsibilities he had to attend to.

He watched Scott until he could no longer see his back as he walked into the green veil of the trees in the distance. “Well, I must be going as well.”

Ms. McCall tapped his father’s arm and nodded towards him and said, “who would have thought that are boys would turn out so wonderful.”

His father chuckled. “I guess we should have known all along. Our weird boys growing up to be weird men.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and bid farewell to Ms. McCall and told his father that he’d see him tomorrow. His father gave him a wink to let him know that he understood what he meant and then he closed the door behind him.

He was going to be staying with Derek overnight and then they would wake up to go back to the lake where he murdered the hunters. Derek wanted to see if he could catch a familiar scent off of any of them or see if the bodies had been moved or touched. It would let them know if the other hunters knew that someone had murdered one of their own and it would let them know what they should do next.

On the positive side, Stiles thought to himself, it would give him time to be alone with Derek. Which was something he always appreciated.

Once he stepped into Deaton’s office he went to his desk to take a seat and unwrapped his bandaged hand. It wasn’t in pain but now it was hard, with a crusty film. It smelled like rotten milk and had turned into a disgusting mess. It scabbed in some places and remained open and sour looking in others. He had to work each finger and make the skin stretch so it wouldn’t remain permanently stiff. Sure, at least he had new skin growing back but he was certain his hand would never be the same.

His baby finger had skin so tight that it could barely move even with his assistance and when he looked at the palm of his hand he noticed that he no longer had the prints on the pads of his fingers.

He grabbed the jar of salve and slathered it all over his hand and re-wrapped his hand with fresh gauze he found in the cabinet beside the desk. He’d need to talk to Laura before he should try doing alchemy with it because he couldn’t be sure if it would harm his hand even more.

After getting his bandage on, he went around the office inspecting for any more break-ins. He made sure to note the herbs, the books, the dust pattern on and around the windows and even checked to make sure the outside hadn’t been tampered with.

His father told him to be on the look out for another attempt again but he assumed it was a hungry young mother or starving child who was just looking for something to eat. The sheriff went on to say that during the summer season break-ins were more common because the heat left little water and left little crops to be grown naturally in the forest, so many people who didn’t have access to year round crops suffered. Then he went on to state that they needed to start planting their mid-season seeds before they became like the poor and lived off of spoiled canned corn for a while.

Of course his father would turn the break-in into a lecture about keeping up with the crops, that was just his character.

After he searched high and low throughout the office he finally sat down at the desk and began reading everything he could about alchemists being able to use other elements to intensify another element. He needed to do more research on what he had done, he needed to be sure that it was possible to do again without almost dying.

After looking through all of the books he was familiar with he realized how lost he still was when it came to the most basic level of alchemy. He needed Deaton by his side to help him and guide him in the right direction. He needed his instructor back.

But Deaton wasn’t coming back and probably would never be back if that sinking sensation in his stomach was right. If Deaton were here he would have warned Stiles before using another element and using his body as a channel. He would never have been in this position if Deaton hadn’t left.

All of a sudden he noticed a reflection from one of the books inside the drawer. He gently pulled on the book to see what was. The shiny metallic green binding reflected off of the sun that shone in from the window right behind him and he very delicately traced his fingers over the edge.

‘Wow’, he murmured. With tender hands he examined the outside of the book, taking note of the sole lightening shape engraved into the front cover of the book. He noticed that if the light didn’t touch the book the metallic looking surface would disappear completely. So for a few moments he would put it in the light and watch the iridescent colors dance on the book and then he would cover it and try to see where the color had gone.

After thoroughly examining the outside and playing with it in the light for as long as he could stand, he finally dared to crack it open and begin his reading.

It was easy for him to realize that this book dealt with the teaching of restorative alchemy and seemed like the average book on restorative magic until he noticed that the last half of the book was blank.

He stared at it, completely puzzled by it. He wondered out loud, _‘all it was was restorative, what was the point of giving it this cover? What was the point of making the entire last half completely blank.’_ The thoughts swirled inside of his mind. The cover shone so brightly in the sun and all it taught him was restorative alchemy. It didn’t make any sense. Restorative alchemy wasn’t even considered alchemy. Most of the time the apothecaries had a basic understanding so in desperate times they could soothe someone who was mortally wounded almost instantly. It was just common knowledge with people who worked with and for the community.

His back ached so he pulled himself up straight and picked his knee up to rest against the desk and give him a better angle. He had to jostle the book to get into his spot and when the upper corner hit the light he saw the black script form and then fade as he removed it.

‘Mother of the divines,’ he exclaimed. He lunged out of the desk seat and sat on the floor with the opened book facing the sun light and saw the elegant script spread across the pages as each ray of light danced across the page. He flipped to through the pages to the first blank page and began reading.

In an instant he knew that this was dark restorative alchemy. All of the incantations mentioned and explained on the pages had never been uttered by Deaton.

There were some very useful incantations in the book that Stiles made note of. There was one that would allow him to transfer some of his own life energy into another human. There was also one that would allow him to be a vessel for a specific rune but that one was dangerous and would ultimately kill him so even though it was interesting, it wasn’t one he’d ever try. But the incantation about transferring his energy to someone else, he’d try that.

But the more he read, the darker it got. One incantation taught you how to turn a corpse into a rune that would bring them back to life and able to fight again. There was one that allowed the alchemist to steal life energy from another person and make their own incantations more powerful. The deeper he got into reading the more he started to see why you needed light to see the pages, because reading this in the dark would lead to nightmares.

The door to the office opened and shut and Stiles looked up to see Derek breathless and grinning from ear to ear.

“Derek,” his name sounding more like a question than surprise. He closed the book and placed it back in the cabinent before Derek could ask any questions about it. 

In a few strides Derek was right up to the desk and extended a cloth bag to him, waiting for him to grab it. “I just wanted to bring you some lunch and see what you were doing today.”

Stiles looked at him, breathless and sweaty. His labored breathing pushing his tunic against the sweat that clung to his chest and stomach. He had to shake his head to keep himself from staring. When he looked up at his face he saw rose colored cheeks underneath his slightly bearded face and hair that flopped down and curled behind his ears. He looked gorgeous.

“Thank you,” he said not taking one look at the food. “I hope you’ll stay and join me.”

Derek glanced around the office. “Are you sure?”

Stiles scoffed. “Of course! No one’s come in today at all.”

Derek gave one final look around and pulled a chair from the corner and sat across from Stiles at the desk. Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off Derek, it was as if they were transported back to one of his memories. Derek bringing him food, watching him eat and making sure that he did.

Derek sat patiently but was looking at him expectantly. Waiting for him to eat like he did when they were children. “Well, aren’t you going to eat?”

He broke eye contact to look down at the cloth bag and extracted its contents. First was a jar filled with a red looking goo inside of it. “Is this jam?”, he asked opening the jar to smell. Derek nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face. He knew it was his favorite food.

He let out an ‘ahhh’ and then closed the lid and set it next to the bag. He pulled out a loaf of bread, a knife, and a wedge of cheese.

“Derek, you didn’t have to do this. But I thank you for it.”

Derek just shrugged and began picking at a loose thread on his tunic.

Stiles opened the jar again, tore off a piece of bread, and grabbed the knife to scoop some jam on to the bread.

Then he sliced some cheese and laid it on top. He leaned as far as he could in his chair to hand it to Derek.

Derek shot him a quizzical look. “No, you eat it.”

“You have the first bite since you brought it to me.”

Derek raised his eyebrow and leaned forward to take a bite. His lips brushed his fingers and it instantly made Stiles regret the offering because he now strained against his pants. Once Derek got the bite he leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin spreading across his face. 

Stiles pushed the remaining bread into his mouth and started to think about anything other than his fingers in Derek’s mouth.

Derek giggled and stood up to lean forward, reaching out for him, then stopped himself. “You-uh- have jam on your face.”

Embarrassment spread through his body and he had to physically stop himself from running away and hiding. He immediately started wiping around his mouth and Derek just giggled harder.

“Here,” he said reaching out to cup his face, “let me get it.”

Derek pulled his face to his and kissed the corner of his mouth. Then he could feel him moving closer and closer, kissing his way until he was finally kissing his lips.

Stiles pulled back and whispered, “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I was never mad,” he said breathless, “I was just worried about you.” Then he yanked him closer and deepened the kiss. He opened his mouth slightly and slipped his tongue in and Stiles finally melted into him.

He noted that leaning across a desk and kissing was beginning to prove difficult so he pulled away and stared. Derek’s eyes were shut and his lips sweetly parted and searching for him. “Bring your chair over here and we can finish lunch next to each other.”

Derek quickly grabbed his chair and plopped it down right next to his. Instead of diving right back into kissing, Derek began tearing bread and slathering it with jam. He extended the bread to him and when he reached out to grab it, Derek pulled it away and shook his head.

Stiles got what he was implying and let Derek feed him.

Stiles felt the intimacy between them. Taking turns feeding the other and laughing when jam got smeared across cheeks. Kisses shared between bites and making sure the other was laughing the entire time. It was a glorious lunch with Derek.

Stiles realized he had migrated into Derek’s lap once the bread had run out and they were just sitting there staring at each other.

Stiles moved to get off of his leg when Derek’s hands trailing up and down his thigh.

Stiles took that as the signal to begin kissing him and promptly buried himself into Derek’s neck kissing his way from his ear to his collarbone and then worked his way back up to his ear, peppering his way with kisses.

“Stiles, may I touch you?”

He didn’t want to stop kissing his neck to answer but tried his best to murmur a _‘of course’_ as best as he could.

He could feel Derek's confidence grow as his hands trailed further and further along his thighs until he was delicately trying to cup his ass.

Stiles arched at the touch which seemed to only encourage Derek more. He also realized at this point that he was completely on top of Derek, straddling him and ignorant of the fact that their laps were grazing each other with every slight movement.

The kisses were becoming more heated as he switched from one side to the other. He wanted to kiss every inch of him but with limited time and limited maneuverability he had to take what he could get.

Derek unconsciously arched beneath him and moaned out his name. Then pulled back, his black hair askew and a flush spreading from his face down to where his tunic covered chest. His voice was only a whisper against his ear but the vibrations made Stiles burn with desire."You should close up for the day."

With his hardness pressing into his thigh and his urge to explore Derek taking over his brain, he had no choice but to stand up and walk as quickly as he could to lock the door. On his way back to Derek he pulled the curtains closed and lit whatever candles he came closest to.

He noticed that the dark, lightly illuminated office was perfect for them. Maybe it was the simplicity and the familiarity of the room and the deep affection he had for Derek but it was perfect. The faint smell of lavender reminded him of his wonderful child years and the fact that Derek was part of those memories.

When he finished with the candles he crossed the room back over to the desk to where Derek sat waiting for him.

Once he approached, he stood in front of Derek, admiring the way the candle light made the shadows dance across his facial features. Admiring the way that he managed to come back to the Beacon and find him even though he suspected fate was meant to tear them apart.

Derek looked back at him with what could only be described as reverence. He extended his hand to his waist and pulled him back to his lap, hands never leaving Stiles’ body. Once he had settled on top of him Derek delicately trailed the backs of his hands down his face. "Divines above, Stiles, you are so beautiful."

The words were like a slap to the face, he knew he wasn’t beautiful, he was just the awkward boy Derek knew from his child years.

Derek turned Stiles’ face to his and repeated the words, “you are so beautiful.” His eyes illuminating as he spoke each word.

He tried to wiggle free from Derek’s hand that held him but he couldn’t.

Derek saw the struggle in his eyes and repeated himself again. “You are beautiful.”

Stiles didn’t want to hear it anymore. So he pressed himself closer to Derek and whispered thank you and threw himself into kissing Derek again.

Compliments made him feel disgusted. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Derek telling him that he thought he was beautiful, he just knew that compliments were usually forced and not always the truth. His mother taught him at a young age that complimenting was the surest way to make someone feel good about themselves, even if they weren’t always true.

Like whenever Lydia Martin’s mother would bring a casserole over after his mother would assist her with an herbal remedy, Stiles always had to compliment on how delicious it was even though he couldn’t stand it.

“My love," she would say in her sing-song voice, "it’s always nice to compliment whenever someone does something nice for you,” then she’d scratch his head, “because it’s nice to know that you’re appreciated for your efforts.”

So, he knew that the compliment from Derek was more of a ‘thank you for kissing me’ and not a ‘wow, you are actually beautiful’.

Derek’s soft whisper broke through his thoughts, “can I touch you?”

He needed to stop worrying about things that didn’t matter. Stiles said yes and concentrated on Derek more.

He could feel Derek's hands wandering along his bottom but then they moved under his tunic and down his back and even though he felt the pleasure, he didn’t like the idea of someone being that close to his scars. Derek had seen them before and knew of them, he just didn’t really enjoy the thought of him touching them. The closer he got to them the closer it made Stiles realize that someday he’d have to explain why they’re there.

_‘It’s just your back. Calm down. It feels good. Just enjoy it.’_

He pushed the thought of his scars away and concentrated on finding what made Derek feel good. Stiles stopped kissing his neck, and formally asked, “may I touch you, Derek?”

Derek nodded and Stiles pushed his hands under his tunic and going straight for his chest. He’d been wanting to get his hands on his chest from the moment he saw him with out his tunic. His mouth made it’s way back to Derek’s the kiss growing deeper and deeper.

There was a level of inexperience that both of them shared. Stiles had been with girls and had touched them in sexual ways but it was different with Derek. He didn’t know what to do when he touched his chest, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with his cock, or anything besides kiss. In defense of their inexperience, they were pretty great at kissing.  

He slowly pulled his mouth away from Derek’s, and Derek’s hands immediately left his body as if he’d done something to upset him. He pushed Derek’s hands back where they were and smiled down at him. “I have a question.”

Derek gave him a little squeeze. “What’s the question?”

“With men and women there’s always an end result when it comes to sex. How does that happen with two men?”

Derek turned bright red, “I-uh- I don’t know.” His accent suddenly appearing and catching on every word, “I think well, you know, how when you’re alone, you just do that to the other person. I’m not sure, though. I’m not versed on what to do with another man.”

Stiles was over the embarrassment of asking. He was tired of never getting the end result with Derek because he didn’t know what to do. It was exhausting and sometimes painful.

“Well, Derek,” he ran his nails along Derek’s chest, “I think we can just try everything we can think of until we figure it out.”

Derek smiled and slowly trailed his fingers from his ass until they landed on the hip bones that jut out.

Stiles leaned forward to kiss while his own hands made their way to Derek’s hips. His fingers stopping to graze the hair that stuck above his breeches.

Derek’s body quivered and he held onto Stiles with an almost painful grip. He found the string that held his breeches on. Holding it in his hand he asked, “are you ready?” And when Derek nodded he pulled the string, undoing the knot and revealing his underclothes.

Derek mimicked his action and then hiked him up to pull down his underclothes.

Stiles’ embarrassment finally hit when he saw his cock spring forward. A whimper barely escaping  his lips.

His hand grabbed for Derek’s underclothes and pulled them down far enough so that he could finally see Derek. He only glanced at it before he looked back at Derek, eyes wide and full of mirth.

They both snorted at the same time from holding back their laughter and then began laughing uncontrollably for a few moments before Derek leaned up to kiss him. Derek didn’t touch Stiles and he didn’t touch Derek. He knew they needed to kiss and to get back the sexual momentum from before.

Finally, with Derek’s breathing getting faster, he felt Derek reach out and touch him. His cock twitched from the phantom touch. All at once he felt Derek circle his hand around and give a few experimental tugs.

Stiles knew he wouldn’t last so he reached down and did the same thing to Derek. His cock felt different from his own, the tip was flatter and thicker than his but he loved the feeling of touching Derek, making him sweat and arch his back. The end was near for both of them and all they could do was continue to kiss and pant against each others mouths.

The sensation began growing in his lower stomach and spread out to his fingers and toes. He refused to stop tugging on Derek but the sensation of trying to hold back was becoming too much.

“Come on, Stiles. Come on.”

Derek’s voice coaxing him to release sent him over the edge and his eyes blurred as he came with a moan.

Once he regained his composure he resumed kissing and continued tugging on Derek.  After a moment he could tell Derek was trying to hold off, his legs stiffening and his back arching into Stiles’ hand. “I’m about to…” and then finally he came with a yell, his body shivering, his nails digging into Stiles’ thigh.

They sat for a moment, peaceful and content. Stiles sitting in his lap, with his head laying on Derek’s shoulder, he’d never felt more peaceful in his life. He cuddled closer to Derek, his nose inhaling the naturally musky scent and waited for his heart rate to return to normal.

Derek ran his fingers up and down Stiles back, his arms wrapping around him to hug but then deciding to keep moving. “That was successful.”

Stiles grinned against his neck, “I think we could practice more.”

Derek’s arms tightened around his waist, his fingers digging into his ribs. Stiles felt the vibrations of his laughter travel through his body, until he was forced to lean down to kiss him again just to make him stop laughing.

***************************

By the time they left the office the sun was almost completely set. Darkness crept in along the horizon and he could barely see the direction he was headed which made the nerves ignite in his stomach, but with his hand looped around Derek’s arm as he lead them into the darkest parts of the woods, he couldn’t help but feel safe. He sensed where they were in the woods because he’d been this direction so many times but with no light to help him see he was able to trip over every single rock that stuck out of the earth.

Derek pulled his arm from Stiles clutch and stared at him his features becoming shapeless because of the looming night. “Can I just carry you? You’ve tripped 3 times in the span of 3 footsteps.”

“I refuse to be carried like some damsel in distress.”

“You are in distress!”

There was truth to what Derek was saying, he knew it, but he’d never admit it. Walking was difficult enough for him without it being dark but he couldn’t allow Derek to actually carry him. He had a little bit of dignity left. “I’m not in distress!”

Without warning he felt Derek grab his ribs and hoist him to his shoulder. While being upside down he squirmed until he could get the feeling of Derek’s shoulder out of his stomach. He reached out grabbing for something to hold on to and realized that he was faced with Derek’s ass. “Whoa! Put me down.”

From above he heard Derek laugh, “we are only a few paces away. Just calm down.”

He gave up kicking and let Derek walk with him thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. After a while he felt the blood rushed to his head at an alarming rate. His eyeballs felt like they were on the verge of popping and his face felt swollen and distorted.

Derek came to a halt and announced, “here we are!” and Stiles was thrown on his feet.

The dizziness hit him and it took a moment to really get his mind back. Once his vision settled he saw Derek shining and smiling right in front of him. His stance leaning towards his face, he whispered, his beard brushing Stiles cheek, “last kiss until tomorrow”, and kissed him sweetly.

Stiles pulled back and pressed his forehead against Derek’s. He paused for a moment soaking Derek’s happiness in until he unlaced his fingers from Derek’s grasp and pulled away.

Derek pinched his facial features together like he was in distress and opened the door.

When the door opened he could see the light surrounding the entire home keeping the house softly illuminated during the darkest part of the evening. Cora was at the stove tamping down the wood in the burner to make the fire die.

He was about to run to her and embrace her but he stopped what she was doing immediately and stared at him, then he saw her visually look around, and then look back at him confused. Derek stepped through the door right behind him and Cora instantly stared at them. Her face looking like she was trying to catch a scent of something in the air.

Derek caught on to what she was doing and stepped in front of him, shielding him from her. “Cora, no- it’s not-”.

“Holy mother of the divines! Derek!”

Derek stopped and dropped his head down and pushed him further away. “Please, Cora. Please.”

“I knew it! I knew you fancied that boy!”

Derek stood still, Stiles unwilling to move or even breathe. He figured it out- Cora could smell them, could smell each of them covering each other in the most intimate way.

Cora didn’t sound angry, she sounded surprised and a little disgusted, but not angry.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You of all people should know that I wouldn’t have cared!" Now she sounded angry.

Derek pleaded with her, “you have to- you have to understand. I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t know that he would have felt the same.”

Stiles glanced at Cora from around Derek’s shoulders because he was still being shielded by him. She looked frustrated and hurt, she looked like she was on the verge of tears. He knew it was the anger making her eyes shift from their normal brown to gold.

“Cora..”

“All those seasons hiding! All those seasons of shared secrets and hurt and you couldn’t tell me this. That you fancied the Stilinski boy. Looking back, I should have known. I should have.”

Derek slowly approached her, “I didn’t even really know, Cora. It’s not like I kept something from you.”

“So you weren’t having sex with him before we were forced to leave the Hills?”

“No! Cora,” his stammer getting worse the more he spoke, “he was still a little boy. I was still a little boy.”

She just stood next to the burner looking out the window. There were fireflies that danced outside the windows but she seemed unable to focus on anything in particular. He was thankful to know that she wasn’t upset that her only brother was with another man, but the tension in the room made Stiles feel like he was part of keeping this important secret from Cora.

She sighed and finally stopped staring out the window and focused on fiddling with the grate above the stove, running her fingers across the cool metal and letting it strum beneath, “okay, I believe you.”

She made a pointed effort to lean over the stove and stare back at Stiles. She gave him a smile and then pulled her eyebrows together to display a sign of anger at him but it was easy for him to see right through the facade.

“If it makes you feel better,” he said with a grin forming on his lips, “you’re still my favorite.”

Derek turned to face him and he anticipated the eye roll before Derek even did it.

Cora sniggered behind him. “You should probably keep Derek as your favorite because I won’t do some of the stuff that Derek has obviously done to you this evening.”

Derek ran to chase her and screamed for Cora to shut up and Stiles couldn’t help but hide his face in his hands trying not to actually collapse and die from embarrassment.

************************************

Things had changed. 

The quartz felt much heavier than normal as his fingers traced the delicate lines that he engraved into it earlier that day. He felt guilty about cutting into it with his crude blade- ruining something beautiful and precious that was once his mother’s. It brought out the best memories of her and it reminded him of warm fires and the smell of rosemary burning over an open fire with meats cooking beneath it, it brought out summer months filled with honey bread, and chasing butterflies through the reed, her encouraging eyes trained on him as he got further and further away from her.

Once the rune was placed on his body he had to lock the quartz away from himself and from anyone ever seeing it again. The thought sent a wave of nerves to the bottom-most part of his bowels. Another piece of his mother he had to lose.

He placed the rune against his lips and prayed that his mother approved of this, that she approved of him practicing alchemy, that she approved of who he was.

He was sitting at the living area table with his shirt bundled next to him. He hated being bare chested and exposed. But this rune was going in the middle of his chest directly over his heart, where the memory of his mother’s quartz would always sit. He smoothed down the chill bumps that spread across the expanse of his chest and his arms, trying to shake away the feeling of nerves that began to grow.

From behind, he heard the knife hit the stone and winced with each subsequent strike. His father told him he wouldn’t allow him to use a dirty or dull knife while marking himself. He was also extremely apprehensive about the whole process of making a rune because of his previous issues of hurting himself.

The knife scraped the stone again and his father spoke, the sound burning his ears and making his father hard to hear. “Are you sure you want to do this? Why not wait for Deaton to return?”

Stiles rubbed the side of his head where he could feel the pain begin to bloom in his brain. “He might not come back.”

He thought back to yesterday, seeing that all the bodies had been taken, that the entire lake had been scoured and taken note of, that even the runes he made in the mud had been noted by the hunters who took the bodies. He could no longer afford to wait for Deaton's return. There was an extreme urgency to getting this rune working successfully on his body, his time had run out.

His father stayed silent, still scraping the knife, and making him cringe.

He couldn’t tell his father that there was now a looming possibility of these hunters coming after him. He just needed to get his father to help before they came and tried to kill him. “I need this rune father. I’m not excited to do this- I’m not.” He smoothed down more chill bumps that started spreading again. “I just need this rune on my body to help my alchemy skills grow.”

His father stopped scraping and came to stand next to him. He presented the knife, the metal reflecting his image to himself. He didn't like what the reflection showed. It showed dark eyes and a sallow complexion. He could see the worry reflected back at him. 

~~He grabbed the knife and brought it level to his chest. His father sat next to him holding a clean rag to mop the blood once he began the process. He inhaled and pressed the knife against his skin, bringing forth a drop of blood and then drug the knife down his breastbone. He didn’t cry out, he didn’t flinch, he just kept his hand still and tried not to enjoy the feeling of causing himself pain. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long one and it also took forever to write.


	9. Chapter 9

There was fog pressed against his windows that made the house look like it had been breathing the entire time he slept. It was a murmuring light that peeked its way through the windows and alerted him to the cold that had settled outside. He knew that the cold was about to take over his life once again. That the cold would be an eminent and permanent danger that hung around him like a cloak of darkness and death.

Thankfully, the downy feathers in his top blanket kept out any feeling of cold that may be bearing against everyone and anything outside. He snuggled closer to the soft sheet and exhaled silent relief.

After the events that had transpired last night, the only real thing he could feel on this cold and dreary morning was that he missed his Mother.

He missed being able to creep across the squeaking floorboards in the crisp cold mornings and jump into bed with his father and mother. Each holding him close and embracing him, protecting his body from the cold. He'd always stick his freezing feet against his father's bare back and his screams and giggles would make him and his mother shout with laughter.

There would be spiced tea brewing and the warm aroma would make him feel like the cold months were completely bearable because at least he had his mother and his father.

But now the thought of not having that anymore made him feel unbearably cold. He laid in his bed missing the smell of the spice tea, missing his mother, and missing the warmth that came from being surrounded by her love.

He pushed back his blanket and plopped himself on to the floor. His feet smacking against the hardwood as he made his way towards the kitchen. He swung his arms back and forth to wake himself up but the soreness that traveled up to his neck made him stop abruptly.

' _Fuck_ ', he muttered to himself. He felt his neck crack and throb but he wouldn't dare stop to examine the problem. He no longer had enough daylight to stop and piss if he was being honest. There was no time to waste.

He stood in front of the wood burning stove and lit the kindling inside with a spark. The kindling ignited immediately and he could feel the warmth fill the room. His hand traveled to his chest where the open rune was still healing and rubbed it gently, feeling the scab flake away against his fingertips.

He had to hurry and get some food in his body before he left, he had to know he was full in case he was captured and not allowed to be fed - which was a possibility that had come to light ever since Scott came back with news from Allison and her father.

Scott wasted no time when time coming back from meeting with Allison and her father and he meant that in the most literal sense. Scott tumbled through Stiles’ tiny bedroom window half transformed into a wolf and completely out of breath in the middle of the night. Stiles was so afraid by the minor break in that he shot flames at the wall opposite of him and, thankfully, set nothing on fire. Scott was so afraid by his outburst of flames that he roared violently and made all the walls in his house shake. They stared at each other, smiles blossoming across their faces for a second before his father came lunging into his room in his underclothes and armed with broom.

It was a hilarious encounter, one that left them laughing until tears sprang from their eyes, but once everyone was able to catch their breath and stop giggling, Scott made them sit at the table so he could tell them the information he discovered.

His father leaned over, motioning for Stiles to come closer so his father could whisper in his ear, “It must be important if Scott McCall is breaking into our house to tell us what he’s discovered about the Argents.”

Stiles let out a huff of breath to disguise his laughter. His father was right, Scott McCall never broke the law, never disobeyed authority without an extreme cause. Throughout their younger years Stiles was normally the cause for Scott getting into any trouble.

Scott paced for a moment before finally turning to face them. There was worry, he could see it instantly, but there was also fear. It seemed there was fear etched in every seam that made Scott McCall who he was, It traced the outlines of his features, the way his hands trembled slightly, the way his eyes kept glancing towards the windows, or the door.

His father slight sat forward in his seat, the legs of the old wooden chairs creaking with his movements. “Scott, son, please tell us what’s happened. You seem distraught.”

Scott turned to face his father, his features melting into something that resembled terror or pain.

Stiles rose from his seat without thinking and reached for him. There was something on Scott's face that he couldn't read, that was crumpling beneath his normally happy exterior. He could see that Scott was trying hold back tears from escaping. Scott continued pacing and Stiles sat back down.

"Scott."

Scott let the trembling roll through his body and quickly regained his composure, the effects of his earlier display of emotions quickly disappearing.

“Scottie, please,” he begged, “what’s happened? Have you been harmed?

Scott paced between the stove that was now boiling water and the table that he and his dad sat waiting. He knew that this was one of Scott’s ways to release his nerves, he paced. And so he and his father patiently waited for Scott to push aside his nerves.

He saw his father glance at him from the corner of his eye, his foot softly nudging him from under the table and turned to look at him. His father nodded his head toward Scott, his eyes urging him to try and understand what his was meaning.

Stiles got it, he understood what his father was saying. So wordlessly, he rose from his seat and walked to Scott and embraced him as tightly as he could. Scott held back, his body finally relaxing underneath his embrace.

Scott breathed in and out for a few moments before he spoke, his words barely above a whisper, “It’s horrible.”

Stiles refused to let the nerves swell in his stomach. He needed to get his father out of the room for this. Scott needed to speak openly and without hesitation.

While still clutching his best friend he turned to face his father and asked, "would you mind if Scott and I spoke in my room?" And then gave him a wink and a nod so maybe he could understand that Scott wanted to talk alone.

"No, no, you two talk here,” he said as he pushed himself out of his seat, “I'll be going back to bed, I have to patrol early in the morning."

Then his father went quietly back to his own room, Scott and stiles both waited until they heard the soft click of a door shutting before they finally faced each other.

"What happened during your travels? What did you see that has you this upset? Tell me, please."

Scott's face fell, then silently pulled out a chair to sit. With his elbows resting on the table he maneuvered his hands so they could run through his hair, smoothing the dark soft hair back and away from his face. Stiles watched him with increasing nerves, he knew Scott was upset, that he was probably feeling desperate and alone but he could offer him nothing but his presence as a small comfort.

"Stiles, it's awful out there. It's not just a matter of the hunters killing wolves. They are creating more wolves with the intent of murdering them in the most violent and disgusting ways." Then Scott took a breath and continued, "Allison's father actually took me to the location where they keep them locked up. He showed me what they were doing to them. How they were torturing them."

Stiles moved his hand to cover Scott's as small gesture of understanding and of comfort. "You don't have to say anymore."

He watched as his best friends body finally unclenched and he let out a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, Stiles.”

He let the anger roll through his body, careful not to focus the energy on anything specific or himself because after the quartz had been placed on his body, his power was uncontrollable when he wasn’t careful with his emotions. So he sat quietly, his hand resting on Scott’s, the warmth spreading through his body, and he silently told himself to breathe evenly.

“Scott, do not apologize. We’re going to stop them." He squeezed his hand a little tighter, "I'll do whatever it takes."

********************

Going to Deaton's office everyday was a risk that he was being forced to take. The hunters knew an alchemist was involved in the death of the hunter’s at Wednergarten but they hadn't come to investigate him yet. He was grateful that they hadn't but he was filled with dread every time the door to Deaton's office opened.

Derek was forced to stay away, even though all he wanted to do was lay with him for hours and hours. Derek's sisters were adamant about him keeping away from him while he was in his office or doing anything in the Beacon.

Stiles just let his nerves take over and let his magic run through his body. The flames were dancing on the tips of his fingers, the flames not burning him but causing the heat to warm him immensely. He felt like he always had flames on his fingers, he couldn't stop the magic anymore, he couldn't stop the buzz or the swooping feeling in his stomach every time he felt an emotion.

The Quartz was too powerful. Way too powerful for someone as inexperienced as he was. The rune was drawing power directly from him in ways he couldn't fully understand. He had to eat twice the amount of food to keep the rune from stealing fat directly off of his body. It also kept him from sleeping and being able to fully rest at night. If he dreamt at all during his sleep he'd wake up drenched in sweat from restoring himself the entire night.

The office door opened and finally broke him from focusing entirely on the flames on his hands. As he watched the door slowly open and there stood a little girl of about five seasons, her white blonde hair was wild and tangled, masking her face from him, her dress was tattered from years of wear. “There’s something wrong with my Momma.”

Stiles stood up and made his way to the door as fast as he could. He bent down low so he could meet her at eye level. “What’s wrong with her?”

Fat tears started rolling down her face. “There’s stuff coming out of her. There’s black stuff coming out of her!”

“Has your mom seen the apothecary?” He searched his mind for an idea of what it could be but he wasn’t an apothecary, he was just an alchemist- and not a very well trained one either.

“The apothecary hasn’t been here for a long time.”

“It’ll be okay. I’ll see what I can do,” He brushed the hair away from her eyes and gave her shoulder a little squeeze, his fingers noting how easy it was to feel the bones protruding out of her shoulder. “Tell me your name and tell me the way to your home so I can come to your house as soon as I find anything out. Is your father at home with your mother?”

He grabbed parchment and some charcoal by the window and made her tell him exactly where she lived. She said her name was Lucia her almost white eyes were set on him with every word exchanged, she also told him that she didn’t have a father. Before she left he handed her the bread and jerky he brought with him to work for his lunch. She looked entirely too grateful for his liking. The poor baby was starving and probably hadn't been looked after in days. “I promise to search as best as I can for help.”

The little girl nodded a silent thank you to him and stepped silently out of the office.

Stiles remembered that feeling. Even though he was much older than she was, he could still remember those specific hunger pains that came from neglect.

On the bottom of the parchment he also made a note to bring the girl as much food as he could.

Immediately he began packing his rucksack full of different ingredients that could potentially help the girls mother. He was just going to leave early today, close the shop and hope that no one else needed his assistance today. Before he left he added a book from Deaton's bookcase. He needed to teach himself new enchantments or else he'd probably explode. And he was sure that he’d be exploding soon if he didn't find a way to dispel this excess power.

As he locked and left the office, he realized that there was nowhere for him to go, to actively search for any cure. If the apothecary wasn't around then he wouldn't know where to start looking.  

He decided to see if Laura had an answer. She's been good with finding cures for ailments and could even be persuaded to use her healing hands to save this woman's life. He could use the fact that she had a starving little girl looking after her and she wasn't even old enough to leave the house without being escorted.

He pulled his hood up and smirked. Laura would help, she'd just have to be persuaded a little bit.

Just as he finished pulling up his hood he felt his arm being yanked into the deep alley behind the shops in the main square of town.

The flames were poised to be shot at the target but he held them back as effectively as he could. If someone were going to question him then he'd be as calm as possible. He would not be suspicious at all.

Instead of being threatened he felt himself being kissed and the realization hit him like a slap in the face. He pushed the hair away from him and grabbed her face so he could look into her eyes as he spoke. "Malia, it's so nice to see you too."

She pulled away from him to try and kiss him again.

He angled his face away from hers, "I’m so sorry, Malia, but we uh- we can't do that anymore."

Her hands flew to cover her mouth, embarrassment creeping it's way across her flesh. "I'm so sorry! I had no idea you were with someone."

Stiles tried to cover his own creeping embarrassment. There was no way he could explain to her that he was romantically involved with another man, there was no way she'd accept that after being previously involved with him in that romantic way.

She cocked up her eyebrows and studied him intently. It was unsettling but he has to resist the urge to shy away from his gaze. Then she finally asked, "why are you running?"

The street wasn't busy, the street vendors weren't open yet, the young kids were still nestled safely inside their classroom. The silence of the street seemed ominous in the shadowed alley they were pressed against.

“A little girl came to me this morning since the apothecary hasn’t been in the Beacon for the past couple days and she was wondering if I could help her mom. So I agreed to look for something to help.”

Malia kept her gaze locked on him. Instead of looking at him hungrily, there was now a gaze of  camaraderie on her face. “What’s wrong with her?”

Stiles reflectively brought his hand up to trail his fingers through his hair and tried his hardest not to bite his nails. "Her daughter said she was leaking."

Malia stepped back, horrified, and asked with creeping curiosity, "leaking what?"

"She said that there was black liquid coming out of her," he said with kind of shrug.

Malia pushed him backward with a violent amount of strength that he had no idea she was capable of. His head smacked against the tiles behind him and her hand went to cover his mouth before he could scream. She looked at him with terror in her eyes, her eyes searching his face for something he couldn't explain.

She then turned him to face the door and pushed him as hard as she could to the back door that led to her home. She twisted knob and gave him a shove inside the house, he caught himself before he could land directly on his face and break his teeth and nose. He turned to face her from the floor, terrified of what she was about to do, "Malia, what are y-"

"Shut up!"

"What did I say?"

"You can't just say things like that out loud, where someone could hear you!"

With the confusion growing and his hands beginning to ache from catching his fall he was beginning to get frustrated with her, "what did I say?"

She lowered her voice to an almost inaudible pitch and brought herself down to Stiles eye-level and whispered, “you can’t just start talking about black liquid leaking from someone.”

Even though he was still laying on the ground, his hands trembling and was still terrified of why Malia was behaving like this, his curiosity overpowered his fear and he responded with, “why?”

She shoved a hand out to him and he took it, using her strength to help himself off the ground. He patted the dust off of his breeches and Malia went to the back door to latch it shut and then went to the windows to draw the curtains closed.

He didn’t say much, he didn’t want to risk having her lash out at him again. But that couldn’t stop the thoughts from swirling inside of his mind. _How would she know what was wrong with this lady who is leaking black liquid? And why is she so afraid of explaining it?_

Once she finished drawing the curtains closed she gathered herself closer to him. He noticed that she was trying to hide her trembling hands and she shook like she was unbearably cold. Stiles couldn’t stop himself from gathering her into his arms and holding her close.

He didn’t understand what was happening. Malia was normally wild and untamed. There was never fear in her eyes, there was never a hesitancy in her. She was the little girl who came to school with her hair unkempt and when taunted about it she would yell that she’d bite them just like she bit her Papa when he tried to brush it that morning. “Malia,” he whispered into her noticeably brushed hair, “whatever it is, it’s going to be fine.”

“I’m scared you’re going to be afraid. But you have to promise that you won’t be afraid.”

Stiles couldn’t help the scoff that partially escaped his throat. "Malia, whatever it is, I promise it won't scare me." _‘I murdered a number of people not long ago. Nothing scares me,’_ he thought to himself.

She broke away from his embrace and began pacing. “My father warned me about talking about this,” she stopped to push the hair out of her face, and tilted her head down, “but that’s a sign of someone being bitten by a wolf.”

“Stiles, the legends of men and women being able to turn into wolves, it’s true.”

The breath stopped in his throat. Leaking black was a sign of being turned into a wolf. How could he not know that? How could Malia know about the wolves. There were too many questions swirling around in his brain. So, he resisted the urge to spew the questions that wanted to bubble out and instead let Malia keep talking.

She stilled herself and stared at him, as if she were waiting for a response from him. "Doesn't that upset you?"

"Does what upset me?"

"That there are wolves that can turn into men and women?"

"I've known about that, that’s not important. What can I do to save this woman?”

“That bite- Stiles- she’s dying. Sometimes the bite doesn’t take and kills the person instead.”

He leaned back against the couch, hands pressing on his eyes while defeat settled in the pit of his stomach. "Fuck!"

"She will be dead before the end of the evening and there's no cure for it."

Stiles knew he couldn't plead with Malia, it wasn't her fault, but he instinctively tried to anyway. "She has a daughter, she has a little girl that's going to be abandoned."

"She'll grow up to be resilient."

"How can you know that?"

She looked up at him, vulnerability playing across her face and features making her look exactly like the little girl who sat behind him in arithmetic. "Because it happened to me.

Stiles watched her, not truly understanding what she just said. Did she intentionally mean that her mother was turned into a wolf and she was left alone? It didn't make sense. "Your mother was turned into a wolf?"

"She was a wolf."

Stiles stepped back, his mind refusing to believe what she just said. "Your mother was a wolf? She lived in the Hills?" The excitement was totally evident in his tone but he couldn't help himself. "Malia," he sighed," why didn't you ever tell me!"

She rolled her eyes. “How would that conversation end?”

“Malia,” the pleading returning to his voice, “I've known about the wolves since I was born. It wouldn't have made a difference.”

“And it makes me happy knowing that you can guard my secret and that I can trust you but being too forthcoming is what put me in this situation.”

“What happened?”

Malia bowed her head again, Stiles knew that there was something wrong with this, there was something tugging inside of him, a war raging in his gut. He wanted the details of what happened but the way her hand kept trembling and the way her body kept shaking, he didn’t want to hear anything.

“I met a girl when I was about 10 cold seasons.”

Stiles swallowed.

“She was so pretty, with her dark hair, and dark eyes, and she was older. Earning her respect and being able to play with her made my day. We weren’t even living in the Beacon, we were just travelling back and forth.”

“We were running through the blades of wheat that grow tall just before the cold season and I wanted to scare her.”

Stiles reached over to hold her trembling fingers and Malia clutched back, eyes wide and unblinking.

“I didn’t hurt her! I swear it, Stiles. She just ran and told her father.”

His mouth fell open. “You’re the little girl.”

“What?”

“I was told that a little girl scared one of the townspeople and that’s why the wolves had to leave the Hills.”

Malia tightened her grasp on his hands, “They killed my mother. And then my father took me to the bakers and pleaded with him to let me stay. The last thing he did was kiss my forehead and asked me to promise that I would be good and that was the last time I saw him. He was probably murdered as well.”

“How’d your father know that the baker would keep you.”

“He didn’t, he just knew that the baker and his wife yearned for a child and here I was, raggedy and feral. Surprisingly, they loved me as soon as they saw me.”

“So, you’re a wolf?”

She gave him a level look with no humor. “Yes. I just told you that.”

“But how did I not know? We’ve been friends since we were children.”

“And I guess that’s what drew me to you so naturally. You must have smelled like a wolf, or been scented by a wolf and I knew I could trust you.”

“Scented?”

“Whenever a wolf rubs their muzzle on you, they’re marking you.” Malia gave him a shrug, the shaking in her hands gone.

“What am I going to do about this little girl?”

The room became still and silent. Malia knew what was going to happen because both of them had lived through losing their mothers. He just wanted to give her a fighting chance at life, even though it was going to suck.

“You’ll figure something out, Stiles. You always do.”

“I’m going to get rid of these hunters.”

“I hope you do.”

Stiles, still clutching her hands, leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. Malia blushed and squeezed his hand back harder.

“You smell like another wolf.”

He wanted to acknowledge her statement but he needed to brush it off so she wouldn’t ask any questions about who or why. “I probably do.”

Stiles walked to the door and opened it. When he was finally outside he could process what had happened, it was easier to process what Malia just told him. She was an orphaned wolf, which actually made sense, it made her personality so much more clear now, he thought. He still had no options for helping the little girl's mom.

He just needed to get there. Maybe if he saw her, maybe he could do something. So he started running as fast as he could.

*************

The girl wasn't older than 5 seasons, so the directions he received from her were not accurate in any way. Stiles knew she did her best, she was little. So, he put himself back into a child’s mindset and wandered through the woods. She said there was a big tree, and 4 different trails before her house.

His wish for a little brother or sister came back and flooded through him. If he had a little sibling, he might be able to understand the directions with more clarity. _‘Stop blaming mother and father for things they can’t change,’_ he thought to himself.

It wasn’t that he blamed them, it was that he was upset that he’d never ever be given that opportunity. He can remember telling Derek that he wanted a sibling between the quiet echoes of rocks bouncing against the bark of the trees that he was punishing. Those were some of the worst days. Stiles was angry and starving and the only thing that made him feel a little closer to normal was throwing rocks as hard as he could against anything.

Derek, peering at the ground for more rocks had retorted, “I love my sisters and everything but I always wished I could know what it’s like to feel all of my mother’s love.”

After hearing that admittance from Derek, it silenced him on the subject.

Finally, Stiles saw the big tree. It wasn’t an ordinary tree. This one had spralling vertical lines with red tinted around the bark. Instinctually, Stiles placed his hand against it, resisting the urge to press his cheek to it, to feel the it’s raw and untapped energy. But he had pressing matters to attend to, he couldn’t waste his time rubbing himself on a tree.

The little girl said 4 trails after the big tree. 4 trails. He kept walking forward, his pace quickening as he passed the first trail. He could see another entering the distance up ahead and he couldn’t stop himself from sprinting to the fourth. It was a long cleared section before he saw the tiny stone house. He knocked on the door and heard the little girl scream to go away.

He pushed open the door, “Hi, it’s me, I’m the alchemist. I’m only here to-,” his words were stolen from his mouth as he looked to the ground, trails of black liquid covering the walls and ground.

From across the hall he heard quiet crying and he knew. “I’m coming in, okay.”

“No,” the little girl screamed, “go away!”

Stiles tread lightly to the back of the house, “I’m here to help.”

“Go away!”

He pushed forward into the room where the little girl was crouched over her mother’s body. Black liquid pooling around the sides of her. The little girls bare feet stained from the black, her white tunic ruined.

Stiles swallowed the fear and replaced it with his sweetest voice, “come here, my darling. I need to see her.”

The little girl turned her head, her white hair a wiry halo stuck to the snot and drool that dried on her face, she looked feral, but she did step to the side so Stiles could see.

There was her mother, covered in black, leaking out of her unblinking eyes, staining her hair from where it leaked from her ears.

He was afraid.

He reached out to grab her wrist, check for a heartbeat, and let out a sigh when he felt how cold she was. His heart fell, he tried to keep the tears from welling, she’d been dead for some time.

“Lucia, let’s go to my house, I have some soup, some bread, and even some jerky for you.”

She looked at him, eyes wide. He knew he found how to get her out of the house. It was such a terrible ploy, using her hunger to lure her away from her slowly decaying mother.

Very carefully, he scooped her into his arms and said a silent prayer to the young mother dead on the floor. He also said a prayer for the tiny child now orphaned in his arms.

“Let’s grab some clothes from your room, okay?”

She pointed him in the direction of her room, he grabbed her rag doll and some under clothes. Truthfully, there wasn’t a lot to choose from. He piled what little he grabbed and shoved it in his rucksack.

He pulled up his hood and pulled the cloak tight around his body so the child wouldn’t get chilled and walked outside of the house and into the woods.

**********************

Derek was waiting for him at his home when he brought Lucia through the door. His father didn’t ask any questions, he didn’t even make a face, he just immediately scooped her from his arms and took her into the kitchen by the wood stove to warm her bare legs and feed her as much as he could, leaving Derek and Stiles watching his father tear bread for the little girl from the hall.

Stiles pressed the heel of his palm to his eyes while Derek’s fingers pressed on his lower back lightly. Trying to comfort him in a way that only his touch could. Derek pressed his face to the back of his neck, he could feel him inhale lightly and whisper, “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s time to find a way to stop them,” he murmured, pulling his hands away from his face. He and Derek just stood in the hallway watching his father with the little girl, he tried his hardest to get her to smile, to get her to open up about what had happened, where her father was, what her mother was like, if she had siblings. Stiles was caught off guard by how instinctual his father’s affection for this little child was. He got a damp cloth and washed the dried snot from her face, he washed her neck, and even her feet. He trailed his fingers through her knotted hair and pulled it away as best as he could.

Seeing his father like this was making his heart ache. Without taking his eyes off of his father he spoke to Derek, still pressed against his side but not in a noticeable way. “I’m getting Scott tonight and bringing him here. You bring your sisters and anyone else here too, we’re devising a plan this evening.”

He felt Derek adjust his posture behind him. “Actually, Stiles,” no malice in his words but a sharpness that Stiles had never heard before, “I’m going to go hold that poor baby and I’m going to try and get her to sleep for a moment. Then I’m going to eat dinner with your father like I promised him when I came here.” He strode past Stiles and made way for the kitchen.

The little girl was chatting with his father, the soup being smeared around her face when Derek approached and pulled up a chair next to her. Immediately, he reached for the rag and wiped her face. He put on his best smile, eyes lighting and smile stretching as wide as it could. “What’s your name, fair lady?”

The little girl giggled as she spoke, “my name is Lucia.”

Derek fell back, exasperated, putting on a show for her, “Divines above, that’s the prettiest name I’ve ever heard.”

She kept giggling, Stiles saw his father wink at him, encouraging him. Lucia looked to Stiles as a confirmation that Derek was okay. Stils gave her a smile and she turned back to Derek.  

“May I tell you a story, fair lady?”

She nodded furiously.

Derek pulled her from her chair and into his lap, “Many seasons ago, in a valley not far from here there was a poor woman who was sick. She traveled far and wide to find something to help cure her ailments but no one could. So she kept travelling. The apothecaries couldn’t help her because she needed magic and the alchemists couldn’t help her because she needed medicine.” The little girl hung on his every word, clearly enamored with his expressions and eyes.

If his heart ached when he saw his father with the little girl, his heart did leaps and jumps as he watched Derek trail his blunt calloused fingers through her blonde fine hair his eyes focusing only on hers. Smiling and encouraging. “The poor woman kept going to every town she could find. Until one day she saw a wolf,” the little girl gasped and Derek continued, ”the woman was terrified. She ran until her feet were sore but the wolf just slowly followed her until she couldn’t continue.”

Derek put his hand on her back, easing her slowly into sleep. “The woman accepted her fate and sat down waiting for the wolf to get her. But wolf came and sat by her feet instead, the wolf kept still just waiting for the woman to calm herself.” The little girl’s eyes fluttered shut and sprang back open, fighting the sleep. “But the wolf wasn’t hurting her, slowly the wolf was making her sickness go away, the wolf was doing what the alchemist and the apothecary couldn’t.”

The little girl’s head fell forward and Derek tucked her head on his shoulder, bouncing her body slightly against his chest. He whispered softly in her ear and carried her to Stiles’ room.

Stiles followed him and watched him softly place her on the bed, her limbs splaying as wide as they could across his bed. She looked so small in the dim lighting of his bedroom and when Derek pushed her hair from her face to kiss her forehead she looked almost like an infant.

There was an unknown tenderness in Derek’s actions and motions. Stiles had to turn away before he did something outlandish like kiss him right there with his father in the next room.

He walked to the table where his father was eating his soup. His father looked over and slid him a bowl of soup with a look of something that resembled pity.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, son.”

Stiles just gave a shrug and dug into the soup. Derek walked in shortly after and and his father slid him a bowl of soup accompanied by a nod. Stiles could only quietly observe his posture, the fall of his shoulders, and the way his nails had been bitten to the soft beds.

Derek twirled the spoon in the bowl, without making eye-contact he said, “Stiles, lets come up with a solution to this problem.”

His father answered, “Derek, you can’t just storm into their hide-out and set these wolves free.”

Derek looked petulant. “Why not?”

“No, my father is right. We need to see the location, we need to see how many men are there, we need to see the damage before we actually go in and attack.”

“No, Stiles, you’ll take me and then my men and I will find a way to take them from there.”

Thank Divines that Derek spoke before Stiles because he had some choice words readied on the tip of his tongue to scream at his father. “Sir, I will not let you do that. They will kill you and then they’ll kill Stiles, it’s just- just not logical. Tell me this, if there were wolves being tortured right in front of your men they wouldn’t hesitate to kill those innocent wolves, correct?”

His father sighed, “you’re right.”

“My sisters and I would have to go in and evacuate them first.”

Stiles had to interject. “That wouldn’t be possible! It’s all or nothing, can’t you see that? We have to attack, we have to hope that we get rid of all of the hunter’s at one time or kill as many of them as possible. We need to evacuate the wolves and keep the humans around as proof of what they were doing.”

“I see what you’re saying, Stiles, I do, but there’s no way you could think that I would let you and Derek walk in there and potentially kill yourselves.”

“We wouldn’t be alone.”

Derek was staring at the soup, twirling the spoon, deep in thought or stuck and unable to formulate another idea. “What if you came in behind us?” He quit stirring. “We go in, take the wolves, the ones that aren’t or can’t change to human and leave the humans. Then you come in so you and your men can see humans being tortured in action.”

Stiles shook his head, “but that would leave my dad in the line of fire.”

His father shook his head. “I need to see it, I need to witness it. After all the mornings I’ve spent patrolling the perimeter with the hunters and knowing that they’ve been doing this to people, that they’ve been lying. It’ll be easier for me to arrest them and not put any sympathy towards their cause. Even the elders wouldn’t be able to ignore these crimes. Derek’s plan is the closest we’ll get to justice for all of the residents of the Hills.”

Stiles had to protest, he knew that if something happened, if there was a flaw in any aspect of this plan, his father’s life was at stake and he wasn’t going to risk that. Losing him wasn’t going to be possible. “I don’t like the idea of my father going in blindly to a location that’s not secure. If something were to go wrong, he’d be dead in an instant.”

“I’m a trained sheriff, Derek is a wolf, and you are a powerful alchemist. We won’t let them take us down.”

“I’m not a powerful alchemist. You can’t rely on my skills to keep anyone alive.”

Derek and his father looked at him. “Son, you boiled an entire lake.”

Stiles rubbed the sides of his head where the pain started to bloom. “I can protect myself and even manipulate some of my surroundings but I can’t protect yet.

Derek tapped his foot against Stiles’. “You’ll learn how to soon.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable with this being the plan.”

“Stiles, we have time to think of something else. We still have to stake out the place and actually see where they are operating before anything happens.”

All of the men sat in silence quietly eating the soup and cracking off bits of the bread.  

Derek was the first to speak, voice low and soft, “what is going to happen to Lucia?”

Stiles thought of Malia, strong and wild. He couldn’t stop the fondness from spreading to his face. “This girl I know had the same thing happen to her and she’s doing great now.”

His father gave him a skeptical look, eyes squinting at him with disbelief, “who?”

Telling his father and Derek wouldn’t be spreading her secret, who could they tell? “Malia Tate, the baker’s daughter. Her father dropped her off with him and he’s raised her ever since.”

Derek stilled, “Malia? Are you sure her last name is Tate?” Derek turned to face him, “Stiles, I had a cousin who’s body was never found named Malia. Could it be her?”

Stiles gave him a knowing smile, all of the stories melting together and into place. She was the little girl who discovered the wolves and Derek’s family left when she was left with the Baker. “I think it could be.”

Derek sat back, his mouth forming the name Malia over and over again on his lips. He ducked his head and smiled to himself.

“That’s the M. Hale that’s been missing on my list for so long. She’s finally been discovered.”

His father stood to grab the parchment list that he kept with his cloak. He dashed a line on the parchment and scrolled it tightly away. “Stiles, leave Lucia in your bed, she doesn’t need to be bothered.” He passed by his bedroom to check on her, his body resting against the frame staring at her from the doorway.

Derek lightly squeezed his thigh, bringing his attention to Derek who just stared at him, grinning and happy. Derek motioned his head for him to keep staring at his father. There they sat, Derek’s hand still lightly on his thigh, watching his father as he fell in love with the sleeping little girl who had been through so much.

Stiles looked at Derek, his beard growing, eyelashes long enough to meet his eyebrows, his nose angular, his breathing slow and even. Then he looked at his father, head comfortably pressed against the door frame and he felt something rise in his chest. Whatever happened tomorrow, whatever happened when they finally took the hunters down, at least he’d always have this memory. He’d always remember the feel of Derek’s hand and the sight of love in his father’s eyes.

*****************

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done!!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to warn the reader that this doesn't have a happy ending. But I've kept thinking about maybe making a POV Derek chapter addition but as of now I'm done with it and thank you so much for reading.

_ Derek was starting to get frustrated at him, the impatience in his voice growing, “Please just shut your eyes! I have a surprise for you.” _

_ “I don’t like surprises.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, “just tell me what it is.”  _

_ Derek gave a pitiful expression, “please Stiles, for me?” _

_ Stiles shook his head.  _

_ “I promise it’s not anything gross or weird! It’s something my Aunt brought me from beyond the Hills. Stiles, it’s so yummy. My mom made my sisters and I do this before we tried it our first time!” _

_ He uncrossed his arms. _

_ “Stiles, why would I trick you?” _

_ Stiles threw his arms in the air, “oh, fine,” he said crossly, “just get it over with.”  _

_ Derek was so happy that stiles had relented, his smile was almost making Stiles feel a little better. He sprang up to get his rucksack. “You’re going to love it, Stiles. I’m excited for you to try it.” He rummaged through it, feeling for something. “This is probably my favorite food in the world. If I could eat anything forever, I’d eat these.”  _

_ Stiles just sat on the familiar tree stump, picking at the skin around his fingers, and felt a cold gust blow by him. Seeing Derek this excited about something was something he’d never witnessed before. Derek seemed to be overcome with joy, his smile stretched across his face and  made his eyes crinkle around the edges.  _

_ It was almost worrisome. _

_ “Okay, Stiles, close your eyes and open your mouth.”  _

_ Stiles shut his eyes. “If this is a mean trick, I’ll never speak to you again. Well, I won’t speak to you for at least a week.”  _

_ Derek just clucked his tongue at him. “You’re going to love this!”  _

_ Suddenly he felt Derek grab his face with his hand and Stiles opened his mouth, waiting for whatever it was that Derek was showing him. He felt the odd texture on his tongue and waited for the substance to do something. “Chew it.”  _

_ Stiles chewed and the sour explosion started bursting in his mouth. It was sour but it was incredibly sweet at the same time. It was incredibly delicious. Derek was right, he’d never had anything like it. _

_ Stiles didn't want to admit how good it was but he was certain that his face gave away how much he actually enjoyed it. Derek was a heartbeat away from his face, waiting for stiles to say something. He shrugged, trying to keep himself from smiling. “It's pretty good.” Derek was in his face smiling, encouraging stiles to do the same until he finally broke and smiled, laughter bubbling out of him. “It's good! You proved me wrong!”  _

_ “Here, look at it.” _

_ It was much bigger than any fruit he’d seen and had a tough exterior. The color was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. “See, you peel back the lumpy exterior and inside it’s separated for you.”  _

_ “Your aunt brought you this? Where would this grow?”  _

_ “My aunt travels all over and brings us treasures when she visits. These grow where the cold seasons aren’t as harsh as they are here. It’s called a citrus.”  _

_ Stiles looked at the separated fruit in his hand and popped another in his mouth. He handed the rest back to Derek who refused. “Keep it. I’d be a terrible friend if I didn’t share my favorite things with you.”   _

_ Stiles nodded a silent thank you and clutched the fruit in his hand. Derek sat next to him on the stump, smacking loudly.  _

_ Derek was in a good mood, his good moods made him extraordinarily talkative and sometimes it was too much for him to tolerate. “What are you thinking about.” _

_ “How it’s going to be cold tomorrow.” Before his mother’s death he liked to think that he was talkative and fun but now it took a lot of effort for him to even give Derek any answer to the questions he asked.  _

_ “Stop doing that.” Derek pushed him lightly.  _

_ “Doing what?” _

_ “That thing,” he gestured wildly in front of him, “you always know and feel things before anyone else can.”  _

_ “There was a strong push of air. That’s a sign of cold coming.” _

_ Derek held his gaze. “You’re the only person who can feel that.” _

_ Stiles rolled his eyes.  _

_ “How’s your Father doing?” _

_ He remained silent. Derek knew he didn’t like talking about his father. His father was getting better in small ways but how could he explain that to Derek without sounding like he was crazy.  _

_ “Stiles, if things aren’t getting better then you should come live with us. My mom said she’d love to keep you. You always were her favorite child.” _

_ Stiles breathed out a small laugh. “He’s getting better.” _

_ “Really?” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “How is he getting better?” _

_ There wasn’t enough patience inside of him to answer all of Derek’s questions, there wasn’t enough care in his heart to do so either. “Why does it matter?” _

_ Derek stood up, he looked down at Stiles with a look of contempt on his face, “how could you even ask that question?” His speech was beginning to stutter, “I want to know that you aren’t being hurt by him. I want to know that he’s being a good father to you because he hasn’t been a good father in a long time.” _

_ Stiles stood up and shoved Derek backwards as hard as he could. “My dad is a good father!” he screamed to Derek.  _

_ Derek didn’t fight back but he stood ready to defend himself. _

_ In the quiet of the valley he could hear his sharp breathing. Looking at Derek who was poised and ready to defend himself didn’t seem right. The sky was blue, the birds were singing, ground squirrels hopped from tree to tree. But here was Derek waiting for Stiles to attack him or run off. And Stiles was fighting off the urge to tackle him or run away.  _

_ “You’re allowed to be mad at him.”  _

_ Stiles looked at him, the anger rising, the urge to tackle him even greater now. “He’s my father.” _

_ Derek looked back with the same heat behind his eyes, “well, he’s not being a very good one.” _

_ Without any clear warning the anger took over and Stiles lunged, pinning Derek to the ground. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Derek was letting him win, he just laid back and let Stiles hit him. _

_ He screamed, “Fight back!” But Derek just remained motionless.  _

_ He continued to punch him and jostle him but Derek only closed his eyes and ignored him.  _

_ Stiles wanted him to fight back, he needed him to fight back. He wanted to scream at him to punch him but he couldn’t. He looked down from where he was positioned on top of Derek, Derek just took every punch, every slap, every assault that Stiles gave him. Derek was being graceful and completely calm. Stiles felt the spit flying from his own mouth, tears rolling down his face, and the fight being drained out of him, he was hollow and empty. He stopped hitting him but remained on top of Derek breathing hard.  _

_ Derek shifted from below so he could sit upright and pulled Stiles close. He held him against his chest for a long time before he spoke. “It’s okay to be mad at him for not being a good Father, Stiles. You should be mad.”  _

_ “He’s not bad.” _

_ Derek squeezed his neck. “You’re right, he’s not bad. I just meant that he was not treating you the way you’re suppose to be treated. I know he’s ill and I know that he’s still sad but you are still his responsibility and his child.”  _

_ Derek pulled away and grabbed the rest of the citrus that was left on the tree stump and broke more pieces for him. “You’re allowed to be mad at him.” _

_ He took a piece and crammed it in his mouth, “I know. I just don’t want to be.” _

_ “My mom told me once that you were probably the most agreeable person alive. She said you always were amicable and went along with everything.”  _

_ “Your mom compliments me too much.”  _

_ “She also said that being agreeable isn't always good. It allows room for people to take advantage of you.” Derek held his gaze, “don't let people take advantage of you.”  _

_ Stiles rolled his eyes, seeing that the conversation was turning into a lecture, “I won't.” _

_ “Don't let your dad do it either.”  _

_ “He doesn't.”  _

_ “He does.” Derek's frustration grew. “He's allowed to be sad but he can't just abandon you. Stop doing things for him, let him see what his life would be like without all your help.”  _

_ There was nothing he could say to respond to him without sounding resigned or angry so he just kept quiet.  _

_ Derek took a seat next to him and watched the birds in the valley below chase each other with screams of delight. They watched the turtles come out of the stream and on to the shore, they watched the chipmunks collect the fallen acorns and shove them in the ground. Time passed on until the sun hung low against the trees. The sun was always the indicator for when they were forced to depart.  _

_ Derek leaned against him, he was being his playful and obnoxious self but there was a touch of hesitancy in his movements, Stiles could feel it. “I just hate knowing that you are in pain and I'm unable to help you.”  _

_ Stiles wrapped his arm around Derek’s neck and pulled him close enough to ruffle his hair. “One day, these troubles will be only a memory.” _

_ ***************** _

Stiles felt Lucia’s feet poking his back as he woke up. He could feel the cold seep from her bare feet through his tunic and spread through his entire body. He was grateful that she’d be spending a few nights with Derek and his sisters. He’d finally be able to get some sleep. 

He crept out of his room and began steeping the tea. He wiped the dried drool off of his face and tried to flatten his hair from sticking out in all directions but it wasn't working. 

Even though he was completely and totally exhausted from the night before, he was happy, he finally had managed to successfully perform an enchantment that passed his own energy into Lucia. 

Stiles let Lucia touch the rune and his chest and it was almost instant. He only had to have the enchantment in his mind and then he saw her eyes brighten and he felt the energy being sucked out of him and into the tiny palm pressed against the rune. 

Lucia loved his runes, she always asked to see them and to see the lines on his arms, his scars fascinated her and telling her about them wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He, his father, and Derek agreed that there were no secrets and the scars on his arms weren’t something he needed to be shamed by, they were part of who he was. As long as she was with them, she would be surrounded by wolves, by alchemy, and the truth without any negative connotations clouding her judgment. Derek still kept his identity a secret, she would get to play with him as a wolf but she would never know that the wolf was him. 

Stiles would take her to the stream, just like his mother had when he was little and showed her some basic alchemy. In the beginning the drawing of the rune on the ground had frustrated her but she then she transformed water into sugar and the issue with drawing runes was no longer an issue. Sometimes when he brought her to the stream Derek would be waiting for her as wolf and no there would be no alchemy that day. 

She adored Derek when he was a wolf. She would quietly ask Stiles to pick her up and put her on his back and Derek would sigh but comply. After playing with him, she would take a nap in the soft sand, and he and Derek would get to talk. 

“She’s only five seasons and she can do more alchemy than some trained adults.”

Derek’s hand glided across his back and held his waist, fingers curling around his hip, lightly stroking. “That’s amazing. You’re a great teacher.”

Stiles looked at Lucia, her blonde hair in her mouth and matted close to her eyes. “I learned from the best.”

Derek gave another squeeze and brought his hand to rub his neck, it was his way of telling him that  _ ‘they were going to find Deaton’,  _ without saying it. 

“Would your sisters be pissed if I cut her hair?”

“Why do you want to cut her hair?”

“Look at her Der, she’s always got her hair in her mouth.” 

Derek laughed, “who cares what they think? The hair is an inconvenience to her.” 

Stiles leaned over to him and trailed his hand across his shoulders, stroking back and forth. He turned his face toward his and kissed him, Derek’s tongue slipped past Stiles’ lips and he sighed. 

The teapot began screaming and Stiles was pulled from the memory. He took the pot off the heat and filled the mugs with the tea leaves. His father came out of his bedroom and sat at the table, Stiles handed him the mug and he drank it without saying a word. 

After finishing his tea he finally spoke, “You and Luce were up late last night, I heard you giggling well into the night.”

Stiles smiled and sat across from him. “We were practicing alchemy.”

“She’s still little, she needs sleep or she won’t grow.”

His smile fell. “I understand. It won’t happen again.” 

“It’s not that I mind it. Maybe if I built her a small bed, something to call her own, it’d be easier?” 

“She’d love her own bed but I promise to not keep her up late again.”

“I asked Lady McCall to make her some clothes so that she can stop wearing our tunics as dresses.”

Stiles had to laugh, it was one of the most ingenious things he and his father had come up with. They would just give her one of their tunics and belt it at the waist and it was a perfect dress. 

“I think I’m going to cut her hair today.”

“Thank divines. I’m so tired of seeing her hair stuck to her face.” Then he sighed, “she has to bathe every single night because she gets food stuck in her hair.”

While his father sat, Stiles began to wash dishes and wipe the table and counters down. He knew that he’d been neglecting his household chores and promised himself that once Luce left, he’d work on them. 

“Stiles, sit with me for a moment.”

Stiles quit fretting over dust and dishes, and sat down to enjoy a moment with his father. 

“I feel like I never see you, son.”

Stiles understood that feeling. Lately it had been work, plot, Derek, and Lucia. He was always doing something with those things combined or separate. His father had been working mornings so that he could care for Lucia if she was with them. 

“How’s Derek? I feel like I never see him either.”

“He’s fine.”

“Has he tracked any activity recently?”

Stiles shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary. They know the location but there’s always the possibility of other locations.”

“I’m sure there are other locations.”

“At least everyone seems to think that this is probably the main location.”

“How’s Boyd doing? 

“He’s very affectionate with that new girl Laura found near the outer edge of the Hills.” 

His father gave him a grin. “Oh, he is? His parents are going to be thrilled when he returns. They sure do miss him.”

“He misses them. He wants to be back home.” 

His father put down his mug and stared at him, his head falling into his hand. “You remind me so much of her, Stiles. The way you are with Lucia, the way you’re fighting with Derek. I just-,” he stopped and kept staring.

Stiles looked down at the table, picking the splintering wood out of the small holes in the table. 

“When you were younger you looked exactly like her, you still do. But now it’s so much more than just her appearance.” 

If he looked up at his father, he’d start crying. If he just kept picking at the wood, he wouldn’t cry. He’d be strong and stare at the wood. 

“The way you hold everything, Stiles.”

The tears formed but he wouldn’t let them slip free.

“You are the strongest person I know. Your mother would be so proud of you.”

Then the tears started falling and he couldn’t stop them, he heaved out a breath and shuddered for a moment. He swiped the tears and pressed his hands against his face willing himself not to run. 

“I wasn’t good to you after your mother died. I missed her- I still do, Stiles, I miss her everyday.” His father cleared his throat, “you grew up so fast and then you lost your best friend and you still managed to wake up and help me around the house, you’ve managed to become an incredibly strong alchemist.”

Stiles voice was choked with tears but he still managed to utter a thank you. 

“I love you. I love how you are full of passion and love for others. You are amazing.” 

They sat in silence until they heard tiny footsteps glide across the floor. Stiles quickly pulled his face back into a neutral expression and waited for Lucia to attack them with her affection. 

She sat on his father’s lap and just stared out the window. 

His father pushed her hair out of her face and pinched her cheek. “Are you ready to see Derek today?”

She nodded. “Are we going to the stream today?”

“No, we have to go straight to Derek’s house.” 

She frowned and looked away from Stiles, angry that she wouldn’t be getting to play in the water.

His father patted her back softly. “While you’re away, I’m going to build you your own big girl bed.” 

“In Stiles’ room?”

“Yes, you’ll get to put your dolly on it, and you’ll get to have soft sheets. It’ll be only yours.” 

Lucia giggled and fell off of his father’s lap to grab some of the dried pork meat.. 

“Luce?”

Her mouth was filled with the pork meat so she tilted her head to the side, acknowledging him.

“Can I give you a haircut before we go?”

Lucia nodded and then his father looked at him with a smile on his face. 

***************

Derek’s house was packed full of people. Lucia had the ability to just blend right into whatever situation she was put in. She found Boyd who immediately threw her on his shoulders and began bouncing her around. Everyone stopped and stared at her new haircut though, and Stiles felt the burn of shame creep up on to his face. 

Stiles drifted towards the back of the house where Derek was standing petulantly. He bumped his shoulder lightly and Derek traced his spine all the way down until he clutched his ass. Stiles whispered, “If you keep going with this, I won’t be able to stop.” 

“I haven’t felt you in days. I miss you.”

Cora glanced at Derek and Stiles. “Her hair is... Well, it won't be in her face anymore.”

Stiles just stared blankly, he knew he cut her hair extremely short and sort of uneven. He gave her a nod as Derek kept tracing his finger up and down his back. “We should go for a walk.”

“Then everyone in here will be able to smell it on us.” Just the thought alone made the nerves rise. “Once all this is over, we can build a house together and never stop.”

Derek gave him a knowing look and pressed his fingers into the back of his neck. It took all of his willpower not to let out a moan. Cora was still the only person who knew of what they did and how much they truly loved being with each other. 

Boyd pulled Lucia off of his shoulders and tossed her into the air, her joyous screams reaching every corner of the house. Boyd was her favorite person. She would announce it loudly and often. But she was naturally drawn to him, ever since she first met him, she would drift closer and closer until he’d pick her up and set her on his lap. He gently touched her hair and Lucia leaned into his palm. 

“One day.”

Laura let out a bellow and all the attention was turned to her. Derek bumped Stiles and rolled his eyes, “here she goes,” he whispered. Her eyes snapped to Stiles and Derek and she gave them the most ruthless glare. Stiles shrank back against Derek slightly out of fear.

“We need a few more moons before we can actually attack the hunters. During the next few days it’ll be a priority to train and strategize.”

Boyd raised his hand, “where will Luce go during this time?”

Laura motioned for Stiles to explain. “She’ll stay with Lady McCall since my father will be with his men surrounding the hideout.”

Isaac raised his hand next, “where’s Scott?”

“He’s getting Allison’s father. He’s been working with some of the former hunter for information about any other locations around the Hills.”

Laura clapped her hands in front of her face and exhaled sharply.”We’ll have groups going in first, taking out the main leaders, helping prisoners escape and making sure the humans that are there understand that we are relying on them for help in order to take the organization down for the murder of humans. Surrounding the area will be mainly wolves who can leave once the officers arrive.” 

The newest blonde spoke. “This seems like a huge risk. What if one of the officers find a wolf? Then the whole plan has failed.”

Laura paced in front of them, her hands in prayer under her chin. “Not entirely. If there are humans being tortured, that’s enough to have the organization collapse. The Elder Argent would never be permitted to keep his title if there were torture accusations against him and his hunters.”

Cora was the first to ask the question weighing heavily on everyone’s mind. “What’s the biggest threat to expect?”

“They’ll be armed and if Stiles is right about them having Deaton, then there could be alchemy traps in place. They’ll also be attacking, this won’t be peaceful.” 

Stiles could feel Derek clutching the back of his shirt. It helped him focus his mind on the task ahead.

“Stiles, Derek, Allison, and Scott will be going into the hideout, they’ll be doing the forward attacks. Stiles, please tell Allison and Scott this information so they can be replaced if uncertain.”

He gave her a nod, the presence of Derek’s touch on his back growing stronger. He didn’t want Derek or Scott, or even Allison going in. They were going to be attacked and under the most pressure to successfully carry out the task of getting the wolves out. Stiles couldn’t trust his alchemy to obey his mind and feelings yet, even now with the nerves beginning to rise he could feel flames licking their way to the tips of his fingers. He at least knew he could give some of his own energy to someone if needed but would that be helpful in a situation where they were attacking? When Laura was finished talking he would go for a walk to clear his mind and then he’d get to work on his alchemy. He had to.

“Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Cora, Malia, if she plans on going with us, and Allison’s father will be on the outskirts. If there is any signs of distress in hideout, Cora, you’ll go in to assist. It is crucial that once the Sheriff and his other officers arrive that you run. Boyd, at this time you can go home. Tell your mother and father the hunters held you against your will.” 

Stiles saw Boyd’s eyes light up. 

“If anything happens, if a wolf is injured, tell the Sheriff and try to get away as quickly as possible.”

The young blonde girl, Erica, was leaning against the bookshelf. She had a twisted expression on her face. “Why should we trust the Sheriff?” 

Laura stared at Stiles like she was expecting him to give her an explanation but he just shrugged his shoulders and fell back against Derek. He couldn’t be bothered to giver her an explanation about his father, he needed to focus on his alchemy.  

Laura rolled her eyes and started explaining, “he’s known about us since we were born. His wife use to spend her days with us and my mother. Stiles’ known about us since his birth. It’s just known that the sheriff is trusted.” 

Erica resigned herself and Stiles could see her give Boyd a very confused look. Boyd just nodded and smiled then looked to Stiles and gave him a scowl. Stiles couldn’t help but remember how Boyd was always so fond of him in their shared child years. Maybe he was remembering incorrectly. 

“If there are any questions or if anything of importance comes to my attention I will let you know immediately. Once Allison and Scott return with her father, she and Scott will come to Stiles, Stiles will come to us to get Lucia and he’ll take her to Scott’s mother’s home for protection. Once everyone is here we will begin. Stiles, when did Scott say that Allison and her father will return?”

“Scott told me in four nights but he’s often mistaken, so you can assume four nights but it might be closer to five or six.”

Laura just turned and faced the window. Boyd and Erica began doting and fawning over Lucia and her new hair. Cora faced Isaac and shrugged her shoulders. Stiles watched Isaac hesitantly graze his fingers across her shoulder and Cora turned red.

Stiles made sure to regain his composure before she suspected that he saw their minute actions toward each other. 

Stiles wanted to stay and spend time with Derek and watch Lucia manipulate Boyd into doing anything she wanted but he needed to get back to his father. He still had misgivings about leaving his father for long periods of time. But he needed to read some of the scrolls and books he brought back from Deaton's office. There was a lot of practising that he needed to do before Scott showed up to his house ready to fight and there wasn't a lot of time for him to perfect what little he knew. Once Laura had said that they were going to attack, there was a sense of urgency that now took over his thoughts and everything he did and thought needed to be for when he was attacking the hunters. 

The rest of the people had disappeared while he was lost in his thoughts. Derek had threaded his fingers through his, and propped his chin on his shoulder waiting for Stiles to come out of his thoughts. 

“Now can we go for a walk?”

Stiles just sighed. 

“I know that you want to go back but can we just walk, just for a moment.” There was a pleading in Derek’s voice that Stiles couldn’t say no to. So he nodded and the motion made Derek’s head move with his motions. 

They laughed and Derek pulled him toward the door that lead to their outside shed. Derek crowded him towards the back of the shed, his back scraping the splintered wood. He could see that Derek was thinking about something specific, maybe he was thinking about kissing that part of Stiles’ body that made him scream. Derek was playing with the hem of his tunic, his fingers brushing his stomach and making him arch toward him. 

“I need to ask you something, Stiles.”

“Okay.”

Derek pulled his face into his hands. “I need to ask you not to go and fight. I need to ask you to stay behind, please.”

“What?”

“Please, Stiles, consider not fighting. I can’t protect you and my sisters in there and if something happens to me there has to be someone to look after them,” Derek’s eyes were getting watery, “I just, I can’t protect all of you and-” 

Stiles cupped his face and pressed his thumbs under his eyes to stop the tears. “Der, don’t worry about me. I’ll be able to protect myself, you just need to worry about yourself. If you worry about Cora and Laura, you won’t be able to focus on the task.”

“Stiles, won’t you consider it?”

He brushed the beard growing on his face and pulled on the hair that curled near his neck, “I can’t consider it. I have to fight, I have to fight and see if I can save Deaton, I need to fight so I can finally stop hating them from taking my best friends from me when I was a child.” Derek looked as if he were about to pout, so he put his finger over his mouth, “I’ll be there alongside you. I will protect you and your family, I will be there with you and nothing you can say will deter me from being with you.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Stiles. I can’t lose you.”

Derek had the same fears that he had, he was worried about this not going correctly, he was worried about not being able to protect everyone. There were still tears in his eyes, he was so worried about protecting them, so incredibly worried. “You won’t. Have you spoken to your sisters about your fears.”

He rolled his eyes and Stiles understood. His sisters would never agree to that and would ultimately insult him for even proposing the idea to him. 

Derek took Stiles hands off of his face and just held them in his hands. Stiles got the fluttering sensation and watched the colors of Derek’s eyes change as the clouds formed overhead. He was so beautiful, he was so honest, and so pure. Even as children he was open and honest. He never had any misgivings and never kept his feelings inside. Even though his life didn’t go as expected, his brain was able to survive, and he was able to remain the same loveable person he always was. 

Derek kissed his forehead. “I just want you to know,” Derek whispered, “that I love you.” 

Stiles leaned in and kissed his mouth, lingering on the feeling of Derek against his skin. “I love you, too.” 

Derek kissed him until his mouth was numb and half of his clothes removed. His body was red from kissing and loose from release, all of the worries from earlier forgotten. 

***************************

It was silent in the house without Lucia there to entertain him and his father. She was like a small, energized bundle of light. She would bounce on hardwood just to hear the boards squeak. She would climb under the chairs and pretend to be a bird inside of her new-found nest. She illuminated the house in a way it hadn’t been in so long. 

Stiles missed her whenever she was away. 

Whenever Stiles took a break from reading the alchemy books, he and his father would go outside to finish harvesting the last of the crops. It was nice being able to work out in the fields with his father, he felt like it had been so long since he was standing out in the sun picking small spinach leaves. 

“Should I leave the ones that have cold-rot?”

His father stood and stretched his back. “Pull them off of the plant but just leave it on the soil.” Then asked,  “How’s the alchemy going.”

Stiles stood, his back throbbing from being bent over to pick the spinach. “Ah, it’s fine. I’m not sure it’ll ultimately make a difference in my performance but at least I’ll be able to say I tried.”

His father squinted at him, a questioning look on his face. “That was a surprisingly mature thing to say.”

Stiles stared at his father, “Hey, I’m mature sometimes!” They held each other’s gaze for a moment and then laughed. His father walked forward and tousled his hair and swung his arm around his shoulders. 

“Let’s go get some water and forget the field for now.” 

“So how are you going to build Lucia’s bed?”

“You know,” he pointed towards the barn, “that old thing has wood stored from all of the things we’ve built. I just planned on taking some from there and making a bed like yours but a little bit smaller.” 

“Do you have linens for this tiny bed?”

“No, but I’ll ask Lady McCall for some.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows at his father and his father swatted the back of his head. “Go inside before I’m forced to do something I’ll regret.”   
Stiles ran out of his father’s arms and turned to stick his tongue out at him. His father rolled his eyes but raced forward to catch him and wrestle him under his arm until Stiles was stuck. They stood outside of the door laughing until they were exhausted.   


_ ***************************** _

_ “What are you going to do when you get older?” Stiles asked, watching Derek's hands curl around the pebbles on the ground. _

_ Derek threw them into the stream and considered the question. “I've never really thought of it.” _

_ “What would you like to do then?” _

_ Derek kept picking up pebbled and let them fall through his fingers. “Stop staring at me! Let me think of something. What would you do?” _

_ Stiles flushed at Derek’s remark. “I guess I would farm. I really enjoy working in the fields and growing things every year, plus I would be completely self-sufficient and would never have to leave my house.” _

_ “Stiles, you have to go out.” _

_ Stiles smiled, “No I don’t and if I farm then no one would force me. Have you thought of something yet?” _

_ Derek crawled across the pebbles and settled next to Stiles, then continued picking up pebbles. “I think I would build houses.”  _

_ “Wow, really?” _

_ “Yeah, it’s not a real profession, I know, but it would be a lot of fun seeing lumber go from planks of wood to a home.” _

_ Stiles put his fingers into the sand and traced his name over and over again.  _

_ "I’ll build our houses and you farm for us!” _

_ Stiles ducked his head down to hide his smile. “Where will you build our houses? I still want to be close to my dad when I’m old.” _

_ Derek’s head sprang up. “We can build the houses on your land then.” _

_ Stiles shook his head, “There’s no enough room.” _

_ “Not even for just one house.” _

_ “Well, I think there’s space for one, definitely not two though.”  _

_ “One house, and a huge farm. Stiles, we’d have so much fun! I can come wake you up every morning by howling.” Derek laughed and Stiles just stared at him, trying to give him most level glare until the urge to laugh swallowed the glare in his own fit of giggles. Derek kept going, “we’d see my mother and she’d give us all the sweet treats that she and my aunts make. My sisters could come visit us and help us farm.” Derek leaned back into the sand. And covered his eyes with his hands to shield from the direct sunlight. “I’m excited for us to get older.”  _

_ The sand clung to the spots on Derek’s torso that dripped sweat and he had to turn away. “Me too.” _

************************

The next few days passed softly. He would sit outside and watch the leaves fall from the trees and trace circles and triangles into the earth. He could feel the vibrations in the earth, he could feel his alchemy grow stronger whenever he felt connected to the soil.  _ ‘Deaton is not dead,’  _ he would whisper to himself and eventually he was beginning to feel Deaton’s alchemy in the soil, which wasn’t as terrifying as he thought. 

Scott came on the third day of silence. His father was at work and he was sitting outside, watching the horses shuffle in their pins. 

Scott stood beside him, arms resting on the wooded enclosure. Stiles sighed, “I guess this means we better go get Lucia.”

Scott could only nod and dropped his rucksack to the floor. 

A dark haired girl stepped into the barn. “Hi, Stiles.”

Stiles wiped his hand on his breeches and extended it to her. “You must be Allison.”

She gave him a nod and a smile, warmth spreading through him, she was absolutely lovely.

“Scott,” he nudged his best friend, “you didn’t tell me that she was absolutely stunning.” 

Allison blushed. Scott just stared at him blankly and unblinking. 

Together they walked to Derek’s. Allison was beautiful and smart and funny. She was perfect for Scott in almost every way. Scott would be able to say something and Allison would be able to finish the thought. She was genuinely interested in what Stiles did and asked him really specific questions. 

“I apologize for being so invasive but when I was younger I wanted to be an alchemist. My parents would not hear of it and told me to find something else.”

Stiles laughed. “You’d be a better alchemist than I, most likely.”

Allison looked at Scott and they quietly laughed together, lost in their own private love.

Stiles kept walking, trying his best to ignore their longing looks and loving gazes. They held hands gingerly, stopping to pick flowers or nuzzle closer to one another. It was horrible, only because of how much it made him yearn for Derek.

**************************

Lucia didn’t want to leave but everyone quietly encouraged her. Erica promised her that once they were back, she would help her climb all of the trees in the yard. Stiles told her all about the new grown up bed his dad was currently building. Cora told her about the sweet jam she had tucked away for her. 

She demanded that Boyd walk with Stiles back to his house but they couldn’t risk him being seen. Boyd’s family was too close to Stiles’ house, they would be playing a very dangerous game by letting Boyd be that close to home. So instead of Boyd, they compromised with Derek.

Lucia walked between them on the small dirt trail leading back to Stiles’. She would hold their hands and swing between them, laughing a screaming every time they held her up. Stiles would glance at Derek and they would smile at one another with Lucia’s excited screams echoing through the trees. 

Stiles was worried about her being back in the Beacon with them. She would be unprotected for almost a whole day while Stiles and his father were fighting. Lady McCall was a wonderful woman and an excellent mother but it still couldn’t stop his heart from hammering in his chest whenever he thought about leaving her behind. 

Lucia was excited to go to her house because Lady McCall had promised her pretty dresses and a new doll to play with. He wished he could be bribed that easily as well. He wished his father could bribe him into going back to Derek’s without any worry or hesitancy. 

His father returned from work about the same time that he, Derek, and Lucia were returning from getting her. The worry about leaving had relented. Derek was busy bouncing Lucia on his knee and making her fall between his legs every so often. Stiles knew that his father had food with him and when he raised his eyebrows with a questioning look on his face, his father just scoffed. His father always came home carrying food from one of the cute officials at work.

“The official at work brought my Father supper again.She’s always been sweet for my father.” He told Derek with a wink. 

“You,” he pointed at Stiles, “better hush.”

Stiles smiled broadly standing back on his heels triumphantly. 

“Are you staying for dinner Derek?”

Derek picked Luce up off of his knee and stood. “I should probably return. I don’t want my entire walk home to be in darkness.”

“Just stay the night.” His father offered. “There’s plenty of blankets and places to sleep.”

Derek looked to Stiles. Stiles could only shrug as his way of an answer. 

“I guess I’ll stay.”

Lucia jumped on his back and screamed, “Derek gets to sleep with us!”

“Well, he can’t fit in your new brand new bed, Lucia.”

She sprang from Derek’s arms and into the sheriff's lap. “I have a new bed?”

“You have a whole new room.” 

Stiles was thinking about the layout of the house and was terribly confused. “How does she have a new room?”

The sheriff picked Lucia up and placed her on his hip and motioned for them to follow. His father walked down the hall across from Stiles’ room and pushed open the door that held all of the linens. Inside was her new room. It was more spacious than he ever remembered the linen closet ever being. 

“This is my room?”

“It is.”

“You won’t take it away from me if I’m bad?”

His father bent down in front of her and took his hands in hers, “This room is yours no matter what. Even if you are on your worst behavior, this room is yours.” 

Stiles decided to change the direction of the conversation in favor of something a little more troubling. “I had no idea there was this much room in here.”

“Look,”he pressed in further,“I knocked down the wall that led to my closet. I kept the door so she has access to my room in case something happens.”

“Where are your clothes?”

“In the chest I also built. It’s not very big but once you decide to move out, she can have your room.” 

Lucia was sitting on her bed where her dolls were also laying. In the corner there was a tiny table set with some of the old mugs and kettles that Stiles and his father had acquired. There were also some small vials filled with sweet scents that now sat on her own chest of drawers. On the wall close to her bed were some embroidered handkerchiefs that his mother had made long ago. They all had brightly colored flowers and had become yellow with time but they were still beautiful. 

“Mother’s embroidery.” 

“Lucia might be the only person in this house who can appreciate it.” 

Lucia looked at Stiles and asked, “This is your momma's?” 

Stiles nodded. 

She extended her hand to brush her fingers against the flower pattern. “They're so pretty.” 

Seeing her touch the embroidery with her small, chubby, baby hands only made him ache even more. His mother missed so much of his life and now she would miss this. She would have loved Lucia, she would have loved everything about her, the way she sleeps with her mouth open, how she puts allspice in all of her food. She would have loved Lucia and maybe that’s why it was so easy for his father to part with the handkerchiefs. He wanted Lucia to have a part of his mom also, he wanted his mother to be part of her life. 

Stiles watched Lucia pace inside of her new bedroom, she opened all of the drawers, touched the bedding, fluffed her pillows, and traced the pattern of the flowers that hung on the wall. It wasn’t a big room but the way Lucia looked at it, he felt like it was the biggest space he’d ever seen. 

A new fear was beginning to take root inside of his mind. The question of,  _ ‘what if my father falls ill like he did after mother died?’  _ He knew that a little child couldn’t take care of him if that were to happen again. Stiles would have to care for his father and a child if something were to happen.

But it wouldn't. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. His father was strong, his father was good and he would be very good to Lucia no matter what.

********************************

The morning he had to go back to Derek’s with Derek he almost started crying. There was no reason for him to be overly emotional but he was and he couldn’t help it. He woke with dread in his stomach and couldn’t get it to stop even after Derek and Lucia had woke. 

He kissed Lucia on the head and on both of her cheeks, she reciprocated the love by licking his hair. He hugged his father tightly and made him promise that he would be safe. He choked back the tears and made a promise to see him tomorrow and that soon all of this would be over. 

His father kissed the top of his head and brushed the tears away from his eyes. “Son, do not worry so much, you’ll make yourself ill.  Nothing will happen to me tomorrow. Nothing at all.” 

He shook his hands to keep himself from twisting them in the front of his shirt. “I know but I still can’t make myself stop worrying.” 

“I will see you tomorrow, son. Nothing will happen to me. I will be surrounded by my men and some wolves.” 

Stiles stepped away from his father and pressed his hands to his eyes. He felt himself breathe deeply to try and clear his nose. 

Derek stepped up to tell his father goodbye also and his father embraced him tightly. Derek was caught off guard by the act but hugged him back instantly, melting into the fatherly embrace.

“We will see you soon, sir.”

“You will. Don’t worry about anyone but yourselves. Let’s take these bastards down.” 

Derek walked towards the door and opened it for Stiles. He was tempted to start crying and begged to stay with his father but he held his head high and walked through the door with Derek trailing behind him. Once they were on the back roads he let the tears fall and felt Derek’s fingers lace through his. 

*********************************

Once they had reached the barn, they were able to decimate the obvious targets. The men and women station on the outside were ripped to shreds by Scott and Allison. Derek was still trying to do as little harm as possible, he could break their bones and leave them to suffer but couldn’t take their lives. Thankfully Scott and Allison had no issues with killing them he thought to himself. 

It was easy for them to free the prisoners that were still living and imprisoned in the main area of the barn. There were people who were still as wolves and then there were some who could barely move. Stiles told the ones that couldn’t move to just wait because officers would be there soon. Scott tried to coax the ones that were wolves to change but it didn’t always work, so he told them to run home as fast as they could, which didn’t always work either. 

They had to keep moving forward and see if there were any more people they could save or more hunters the could ravish. In the bowels of this hollowed barn was a mess of carnage and blood. Chunks of flesh, hair, and blood lined the walls and walkways of the areas where more prisoners were being held. It was an absolutely disgusting sight but Derek and Scott charged in without hesitation and began un-cuffing them as quickly as they could. 

While Derek and Scott worked to release the prisoners, Scott and Allison would attack anything that moved. Allison was great with a bow and Stiles never missed an opportunity to throw flames or assist Allison with some defensive alchemy. 

Once the prisoners had scampered out of the barn, Scott and Derek were back as wolves, and they pressed even deeper in.

There was a flutter of movement and then the noise rolled in like thunder. Arrows flew from all sides of the poorly built barn. It sounded as if the world were crumbling where they stood. His hand was clamped on Derek’s fur but he let go. In moments, the assailants were unconscious or dead. Scott and Derek attacked, Stiles pulled the alchemy from deep within his runes and used as much alchemy as he could as a defense for them. Allison shot arrows at any sign of movement around the corners. Finally, once the bodies dropped the barn sounded safe, no silent footsteps, no rustling of weapons. Derek had to venture further into the barn to free any more prisoners or wolves that might still be trapped. He stared straight, keeping his eyes on Scott, Derek, and Allison.

That’s when he felt it. 

He looked down at his chest, and he saw it, an arrow shot straight through him. The blood began to pour freely and drip from the fabric of his tunic and onto the floor. The back of his tunic beginning to feel warm and wet with blood. He slowly fell to his knees unable to hold himself upright. 

Allison heard him drop and ran to him. She touched the arrow that protruded out of his Chest. “Stiles! Stiles! It’s okay. We can fix this!” 

Scott looked to the ledge close to the ceiling and saw the shadow and chased after it growling and foaming at the mouth. Derek was immobile just staring at him. 

“Derek, do something! Derek! Hurry.”

Derek forced himself to change, the fur disappearing and the claws retracting. Derek sat on the ground and pulled Stiles to his chest, his arm cradling his head and the other hand pressed close to the arrow trying to pull the pain. Derek’s tears fell, landing on Stiles’ cheeks.

There was no pain. Stiles was dying and Derek could feel it. His mother’s voice began singing in his head,  _ ‘The wolves will guide you home, my darling.’  _

Scott screamed as loud as he could once he killed the person who was in the shadows. Derek still clutching him, unable to move with his eyes trained on Stiles. 

He could feel the blood settle in his chest as it flowed upward into his mouth and dripped slowly outside of his parted lips and on to the floor. His vision was beginning to blur, Derek’s features becoming less and less focused even though he tried to keep staring at him. 

Derek whined and he shut his eyes squeezing out the tears. “Don’t leave me,” he pleaded. Derek kissed his forehead and kept his lips on Stiles. “Please don’t,” he whispered softly against his skin.

Stiles was dying.  _ ‘The wolves will keep you near.’  _

Stiles extended his hand to his chest. Stiles tried to focus on him on remembering the small details about his face, about his mouth, the first time that mouth that kissed him on his bed. “You came back for me,” he managed to say with blood bubbling from his mouth. His chest heaved and he could feel himself fill with blood and it was becoming impossible for him to take a breath. With his hand on his chest, he pushed the last remaining energy he had into Derek. 

Derek would have to be strong, Derek would have to keep going, Derek would have to make sure that this plan still carried through. Derek would have to carry on without him.

He wanted to wipe the tears off of his cheeks and tell him to stop crying.  _ ‘I’m going to see my mother.’  _ He thought to himself. 

He stared at the ceiling where the light that came through the holes made the dust floating above illuminated and he thought of his father and about how wonderful he was, how kind and patient he was with Stiles for most of his life. His father was his life, his main thought in life and while the thought of leaving him made him upset, he knew that his father could carry on without him. He had Lucia to think of now. He thought of Derek as a child and how he would bring him food whenever they would play, knowing how hungry and sad he was, about how he kissed his forehead all those years ago as he ran for his life. He thought of his mother with the sprigs of lavender in her hair, pinching his cheeks and holding him tightly. 

There was a darkness growing around the edges of his sight and he turned his head to look at Derek. “I’m so happy you came back for me, Derek.” 

Derek was sobbing, his hands smoothing down the hair on his forehead and the other hand wiping the blood away from his mouth. “Don’t leave me.”

He felt Derek kissing his cheeks, his eyes, and his mouth. There was no longer a way for him to get any air and the blackness was closing in around him. All he could manage to say was, “you’ll find me again.” He felt himself smile and squeeze Derek’s hand that was still placed on his cheek before he fell into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and those that have stuck with it-- you are so awesome. I started writing this with the intention of it being finished within a month but then I transferred schools and a bunch of stressful things started happening, so thank you. I know I'm not a very good writer but that's how you get better yo.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the first line of a song called Thunder Clatter by Wild Club 
> 
> If anything needs to be tagged at any point please let me know and I will do that immediately. I will be adding more tags with each chapter because more will happen and the rating for this will eventually go up once the story actually picks up.


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